Twisted
by spyslikeus
Summary: In the on-going effort to track down and eliminate the threat against their previous number, Reese and Carter must deal with the machine's latest -disturbingly connected- one. A number that soon has them struggling to survive unimaginable adversities that may lead to the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect all they hold dear.  Follows "Energy" Recommended reading that first.
1. Chapter 1

Twisted - part two of Energy _

Summary: In the on-going effort to track down and eliminate the threat against their previous number, Reese and Carter must deal with the machine's latest, disturbing and connected, one. One that soon, has them both struggling to survive unimaginable adversities that may lead to the ultimate sacrifice in order to protect all they hold dear. Takes place directly after "Energy" (reading that first is recommended)

* * *

Previously, in 'Energy.' We left Mr. Reese and Detective Carter, having thwarted the threat against their latest victim...or so they thought.

* * *

Reese was honestly relieved to slide down into the passenger seat of Carter's cruiser. It had been a physically grueling couple of days, to say the least. "Carter. Can I barrow your phone?" he asked as she handed it to him. "Finch? I think I'm ready for that vacation now."

"Well you're in luck then, Mr. Reese. How do you feel about New Orleans?"

John hesitated for a moment, doubting the true intent of Finch's question. He placed Carter's phone on speaker and tentatively responded. "New Orleans? Been there a few times... Nice place. But why do I get the feeling you don't actually mean for R&R?"

"My apologies Mr. Reese, you are correct. Just before Devlin Steal invested in the Miller's company stock, he received a rather large deposit into his off shore account. I managed to trace it to a New Orleans based, private energy company - Elite Power. Alone, that didn't stand out, since after all, Mr. Steal was an investor, but my trace program also linked our unknown username, (Mambo666,) to an IP address within that same company."

"So you're saying, whoever's behind Dr. Miller's elaborate murder attempt, also hired Steal, and is based in New Orleans."

"I am, yes. I believe the company, Elite Power, is nothing more than a front for an extremely dangerous and elusive, underground crime organization. An organization that seems to be as untouchable as they are feared. I'm still looking into the details, but local authorities have been unable to gain so much as a foothold against them. And what I've found so far, is highly unsettling. Their distinguishing style of terror, is to cloak their barbaric atrocities in the feared superstitions and myths of dark, ritualistic voodoo magic. And so... dubbed, the 'Voodoo Syndicate.'

After getting passed all the company's security protocols, I indeed, found numerous links to a private investor by the name of Vic Mambo. And, the suspected leader of the Syndicate. If you feel up to it Mr. Reese, I believe we've found our puppet master."

"Or zombie master." Carter spouted, garnering a smile and raised eyebrow from John.

John's smile quickly turned to a look of realization. "Actually, you might not be wrong. That would explain the odd phrasing Steal used, in our last confrontation. He said, 'we'd unleashed the Devil itself,' guess he meant, Voodoo Devil." Reese sighed heavily, closing his eyes for just a moment against the sudden wave of overwhelming fatigue. "Ok Harold. No rest for the wicked. I'll pack my gun."

"I'm going with you." Reese turned his head with a protesting look, but Carter continued before he could say anything. "You're in no shape to take on more heavy hitters by yourself and I spent a lot of time in New Orleans. Think that could come handy."

Reese gave her an inquisitive look, _Carter in New Orleans? He'd have fun finding out more about that bit of intriguing information..._

"I'll approve the time off with your captain." Finch offered, pleased that the Detective didn't question how intended to accomplish this.

_Trumped twice?_ John was surprised that Finch, so easily, accepted Carter's involvement...he was usually, so reserved, when it came to involving their_ assets._ "Alright, Carter. But you better throw in a talisman or two, with the usual guns and ammo."

Joss just rolled her eyes, contemplating the increasingly odd, twists of this case. Life was never dull when it came to John Reese.

**************************' Twisted ' -Part Two of Energy******************************

For a full thirteen hours, Reese dozed in and out, vaguely aware of the hundreds of miles of dormant farmlands and rolling, patch-worked, hills as they made their way to New Orleans. It was rare for him to fully relax around others, but it was different with Carter. The level of trust he felt around her surprised and frankly... _unsettled him._

Carter had been extremely persistent about joining him on this mission and honestly, he was grateful. She had truly come through for him these past few days. Her tactical and marksmanship skills, impressed the hell out of him and he appreciated the natural way they seemed to work together. Not to mention she'd saved his ass after being in a car crash, beaten up and shot, all in the span of a few days; so her being here gave him the rare opportunity to rest and recuperate - if only for a shot while.

John fully woke to the buzzing in his ear, _so much for rest,_ he thought. "Mr. Reese, I'm afraid we have a new situation related to our current case. The Machine has just given us the number of Victory Miller, Dr. Miller's wife. I've sent you the address of the safe house in Tennessee."

"Has it compromised?"

"I'm not entirely sure as to its status, except to say the Machine wouldn't have given us her number if she was not in danger. The particulars of the safe house met everyone one of my specifications, but I've yet to make contact with her bodyguard, Mr. Olson. All the more reason to be concerned, I'm afraid."

"What do you know about the bodyguard?"

"He was well vetted, as always, and has worked for me for many years. Though I imagine, anything's possible."

"Finch, they could be trying to use her to get to her husband."

"Undoubtedly, but either way, she's in trouble Mr. Reese. And there's more. I just learned that the Millers' house was the location of another recent attack. The house was destroyed, leaving three dead intruders and one wounded. Apparently, the hit order has been reinstated to full force, resuming with a more far more competitive nature. So our charade of pretending Dr. Miller's death, did little to deter them or has been discoved."

Carter broke in. "How could they know he isn't dead?"

Reese frowned, "What a minute... his wife. If her location has been compromised and she's been talking to her husband. Then..."

"Then they could know where he is too." Carter sharply interjected with concern.

Finch shook his head, despite the fact that neither could see him. "I don't believe so. Thankfully, neither knows their location to share it. They've only had limited contact over an untraceable line."

"Just to be sure, you and the Doctor should move. What about his reactor plans? Where are they?"

"They are secure...," Finch hesitated. "with Fusco."

"Finch..., I'm sorry, we must have a bad connection. I thought I just heard you say Fusco." Reese calmed his voice to a lower whisper, which only intensified his words. "_'Fusco'_ and the word _'secure,'_ don't exactly play well together, Harold. You do realize you've left the fate of the world in the hands of a, _debatably_, morally reformed cop."

Carter took her eyes from the road, turning to John with a questioning frown at hearing his description of Fusco.

"Yes, well no... Technically, no... not really." Finch stammered.

"Well, which is it Harold?" John could feel his frustration welling.

"Detective Fusco isn't exactly aware he has it. In fact he doesn't, Bear does. I hid it in Bear's collar and left Bear with Fusco."

Reese took a second to contemplate what Finch had just told him, then shrugged. "Ok, I can see that. Bear - plain site - dangerous as hell... Ok." _As insanely far fetched as it sounded to him, no one else would ever think of it either._

"John, we're getting close. Twenty five miles out."

"Finch we're almost there. We'll talk once we have eyes on Mrs. Miller and know more." He tapped his earwig.

Carter scrunched her face. "Did I just hear all that right? What the hell is Finch thinking?"

Reese exhaled in surrendering acceptance. "I don't know Carter. What can I say... We leave and the world goes to the dogs..."


	2. Chapter 2

********POI********************

Tennessee was very different than New York. The place may have had its charms, but all Reese saw was one big tactical nightmare. The endless, flat, barren spaces put him on edge.

Victoria Miller was in a safe house located on a two hundred acre hay farm, just west of Jackson, TN. Any neighboring houses were paced so far apart, there would be no way to spot a sharp shooter before it was too late. _Maybe it was just him, but he much preferred the limitless cover of the city, to being a sitting duck in an open field._

They'd tried the body guard's cell again, still, with no answer; so when they pulled into the driveway, they exited guns drawn.

"Carter, take the front and garage, I'll work my way around back and check the barns. Keep your earpiece connected, ok." With a nod, they separated.

Carter moved passed the empty garage to the front porch, hugging against the wall as she quickly peered through the windows. "John. The garage is empty and there's no visible signs of any disturbance." Carter pulled her lock pick set from her coat pocket. "Front door's still locked. I'm going in."

"Copy that." John swiftly moved along perimeter, absorbing every detail with split second precision. The grounds seemed intact, fences uncut, but there was a lot of tire track activity.

A quick search of the barns produced nothing out of the ordinary, but did prove that none of the farm equipment matched the tread patterns he'd found. "Carter. Looks like a couple vehicles, with all terrain and mud tires, left here recently. I'm entering the back of the house now." Unlike the front, the back door was unlocked.

They met in the hall, naturally falling into a side by side, search of the remaining rooms, until each room was cleared. At the last, John indicated to the upstairs and moved into a stealthy climb, with Carter at his six.

All five doors to the hall were open, but one at the end. As silently as possible, they negotiated the old farmhouse's creaks and groans, thoroughly sweeping each of the rooms until the last. The door was locked.

Sharing a quick look of explanation, John starting a fingered countdown. Three. Two. One. He kicked in the door as Carter moved past entering low and going left as Reese, followed high and right.

Empty.

Carter catch his eyes and motioned her chin toward the noises coming from behind the closed door at the far end of the room. Quickly assuming a position to either side of the door, Reese reached for the knob and threw it open.

A blood curdling scream filled the, stark white, bathroom. "Oh my God! Please don't hurt me!" The exotic, cocoa skinned women cowered under the running water of the shower, fearfully clutching it's plastic curtain; made uselessly transparent at every point it was pressed to her wet skin. Her long, wet tendrils of raven black hair clung to arms tightly wrapped against the sudden freight. Reese averted his eyes while Carter tossed a towel to Victoria Miller.

Still looking away, "Mrs. Miller, my name is Mr. Reese and this is Detective Carter. We're here to make sure you're safe."

"Safe? By scaring me to death! Why? What's happened? " She'd tied the towel around herself, walked past Carter and stepped up to John. "Tell me what's wrong?"

Reese frowned down at her. "We lost communication with your bodyguard. Where is he, Mrs. Miller?"

Concern covered her face. "Olson? He said he was just going to the store for supplies. Is my husband ok? When can I see him?"

"Doctor Miller is secure, but I'm afraid it's not safe yet. Have you seen anything suspicious?"

"No... It's been nothing but painfully quiet. Please tell me what's going on." Pooling tears threatened to fall.

"We're concerned about you. We have reason to believe that your no longer safe here. How long has Olson been gone?"

"A few hours, I think. But he has been acting strangely these past few days."

"How so?" Carter pressed.

"Just... well, acting secretive, making a lot of phone calls, outside. Going to town a lot." Victoria wiped her cheeks and sniffled.

Reese turned to leave, but a desperate hand hooked him. "Please Mr. Reese, I'm scared... I need to see my Howard." With a weak smile, he gently removed her gripping hand and continued his exit.

Carter closed the bathroom door with an apologetic smile. "I'll be right here."

* * *

"Finch, you get all that?"

"I did Mr. Reese, but that doesn't sound quite right. Olson leaving, is not proper procedure, nor would be making unauthorized calls. His call history doesn't support this, though he could have had another phone, I suppose. His GPS went offline soon after his last check in around 2am, and is still down, I'm afraid. I'm searching the nearest camera feeds for any possible signs of him.

In the meantime, keep her safe Mr. Reese. I sent you the address of another safe house in Canton MS, just over four hours from your location and another three from New Orleans. Best move quickly."

"What's the normal check-in interval for your bodyguards?"

"I have them check in with a varying coded text every four hours."

"And when did Mrs. Miller talk to her husband?"

"He called her about 10:30 last night." Finch's voice slowed with a puzzling tone.

"And their house was attacked around 3am?"

"Yes. Care to share your thoughts, Mr. Reese?"

"No, still working on it. I'll let you know."

In a striding gait, he returned to Carter's side, bending a provocative distance from her ear and whispered. "We're taking her to another safe house in Mississippi. Have her pack her things. Meet me at the car. I'll keep watch."

* * *

His arms were folded across his chest and he wore a troubled glower as he scanned the countryside for any movement and signs of possible danger. Carter noted his extra vigilant and tense demeanor as she approached. "John relax, you can see for miles in this place."

"That's what bothers me." He said, shifting his stance against the slight discomfort of his aching ribs.

She was happy to see some color had returned to his face and he looked stronger, much more rested. "How are you feeling?"

He just stared at her, as if she'd grown a second head, instead of having asked him a question. "Carter something feels... off."

"Well you _were_ shot two days ago."

"Not me. This whole thing..." He motioned back toward the house. "We're missing something, it doesn't add up. The tracks... neither she, nor Olson mentioned. The fact that he's missing and she's here, alone. If he was the leak, why wait until now? They would have used her as leverage from the start. It's what I would've done."

"Yeah, I noticed you didn't pointedly ask her about the tracks. Maybe who ever's behind this, didn't have time to get her, we interrupted them? Or they got called off when they thought Miller was dead. Or...Olson isn't involved at all..." Carter swallowed. "...and something's happened to him. We'll play this how ever you want, John. I'll follow your lead." She agreed, things didn't set right, trusting his gut feelings as much as her own.

"Let just get her moved. Sooner we're on the road the better. Finch is looking it."


	3. Chapter 3

When Victoria Miller finally joined them at the car, she was met by two, very annoyed _'sentries.'_ Her carefully chosen, tailored silk dress, perfectly sculpted hair and expensive heels, did nothing to impress the impatient, _'whatever he was?' and_ his side kick Detective. She was so tired of not knowing anything and being bounced around. She just wanted to go home.

Victoria wore a look of pouting reproach. "Sorry, I wanted to be ready in case we go see Howard. Where are you taking me this time? Honestly, if my husband is safe, shouldn't I be safest there with him?" But she didn't wait for a response, instead she dropped her bags at Reese's feet and deposited herself in the back seat.

Reese blanked his emotions as he bent for the bags, but Carter was faster.

He was amused to see her, thoroughly enjoy, hurling the bags into the trunk, on top of the dirty spare. All the while, Carter was muttering something about an 'ungrateful diva bi...' John couldn't make out the rest, but he was sure he'd have gotten a kick out of it, and was still smiling at her as they got in.

"What? You don't need to be popping your stitches for damn luggage." She defensively whispered.

* * *

Reese's preferred, contemplative silence lasted only a couple of blissful hours, before Mrs. Miller resumed her worrying rant. "Really guys. I don't see why I can't just go be with my husband. I miss him... I can't eat, I can't sleep, I can't stop thinking about my Howie."

_I noticed._ Reese thought, yet maintained a perfectly neutral expression. "As I said..., it's not a good idea just yet. We don't know what happened to your bodyguard. They might have gotten to him and found out where you are. So, until we discover, and eliminate, the threat, we can't jeopardize your husband." Victoria seemed to chew on this, but he was fairly certain, _it wouldn't last._

Leaning back, she studied her nails. "So. You're the one that saved my husband? Killed all those assassins?"

With a slow blink, Reese took his eyes from the road to stare at her in the rear view mirror. "I helped keep him safe, yes."

"Wow, so what are you? Not a Cop, that's obvious. Military Operative? Government Agent? Mercenary? Superhero?"

Reese kept his waning temper in check. "Something like that."

"I mean, to hear my husband tell it, you're something akin to James Bond."

Carter had to subdue a chuckle.

"When did you talk to your husband?" That peaked his interest.

"Howard's bodyguard, Finch I think, allowed Howard to call me last night. He's so sweet, he insisted on knowing that I was alright. Poor thing doesn't even know where I am. So is that your idea? Keep everyone in the dark...even the good guys? Even a man's wife?" Reese just stared at the road. _Why was she pushing so hard?_

"What else did he tell you?" Though, she was treading on his last nerve, even to the point of daydreaming about leaving her on the side of the road, Reese needed to get the details of their conversation.

"I don't know, the conversation was so short we barely got to talk. We're both just missing each other so much." She wiped a few stray tears from her perfect face. "He did mention that his accountant betrayed him. I never did like that traitorous, little weasel, always trying to capitalize on Howard's work. Where is his work anyway?"

_Now that was interesting._ Reese thought, measuring her with his sharp eyes.

Carter watched the exchange, wondering how long it would be before Reese pulled his gun on her. She suppressed a chuckle, but Chatty Kathy was tempting fate with her attitude and fishing. Pushing John, was not a smart move.

"Safe."

"Is it with him? It means so much to my husband, it's his life's work you know."

_Apparently, it means a lot to you too._ In a grinding whisper of menacing finality, John ended the conversation. "It's safe!"

* * *

About fifty miles from their destination, Mrs. Miller started to fidget, rummaging through her large purse with both hands and was beginning to shift with obvious discomfort.

"Mrs. Miller are you alright back there?" Carter asked peering over her shoulder to see what was going on.

"I'm so sorry, but I really have to use the restroom and I'm starving. I don't mean to be a bother." Despite her words, she glared at Reese in the mirror.

"Oh... it's no problem." Reese lied in a smooth snarl, this time not hiding his irritation, as he turned off into the first roadside diner.

The diner certainly wasn't anything special and judging by the lack of cars in the parking lot, he figured the locals didn't think so either. Of course at 11 o'clock, their choices, to placate Mrs. Miller, would be limited.

"Excuse me, where's your bathroom?" Reese begrudgingly inquired.

The stereotypical, gruff and weathered waitress didn't even bother to look up from her magazine. "It's outside in the back, through the alley. You buying? Cuz we only let customers use the can." She rasped out.

Reese sat at the bar and forced a crooked smile on his face as he cracked open a sticky menu. So this is what real fear feels like... "Just Coffee." Turning to Carter as he touched his earwig, he mouthed, _'Watch her.'_ Miller was already making a beeline for the restrooms.

Pointing her finger at him, Carter rolled her eyes and mouthed, _'You owe me!'_

"Finch you there?"

"I am, Mr. Reese. Quite an _interesting_ time you've shared with Mrs. Miller."

"Tell me you have something on her. _No one_, can be this annoying and be innocent."

"I'm sorry Mr. Reese. I've been conducting a more thorough search into her past. Though she's even more of a mystery than I first thought, I found nothing to indicate she is anything but reclusive.

Victoria Emmam Lebeau, 29 years old, born in New Orleans, to a Haitian mother and French-American father. She didn't have the best childhood... her father was suspected of child abuse, but was never convicted. It appears however, _someone_ thought he was guilty..., he was found brutally murdered. Exsanguinated to be exact. Oddly, the case never went anywhere, was simply ignored by local police, it's unclear why.

Shortly after, Ms. Lebeau dropped out of college, and then, all but dropped of the map. She left no recorded or digital footprint for the next ten years, until she resurfaced on the marriage certificate to Howard Miller. With most of her adult life lived off the grid, any additional information will take more time."

"Thanks. Keep digging. Anything on Olson?" Reese inhaled and wrinkled his nose, quickly regretting the tar posing as coffee.

"I'm afraid so. His car has just been found in an old barn, about fifty miles from the safe house. The police are reporting a man, matching his description, was discovered in the trunk, dead. Shot five times."

"I'm really sorry Harold."

"Please be careful Mr. Reese. Olson was highly skilled and we are still no closer to finding out who did this or where they are."

* * *

After five minutes, Reese started watching for them to return... after ten, he was up to find them.

The alley was like any other he'd ever been in, messy, smelly with a claustrophobic tightness, that would echo every sound. And it was the lack of any, sound that quickly put him on alert. He drew his gun and stalked along the walls of the alley, towards the bathroom, stopping at its edge, to glance around back. He should at least have heard Miller's, never ending, prattling, but he still heard nothing.

The area hooked to the left, creating a small courtyard with the bathroom flanked by a storage building, and large dumpster.

Reese knocked on the door, "Carter? You in there?" Nothing. Cautiously he opened the door, which wasn't locked. They weren't there, but the hairs standing on the back of his neck told him he wasn't alone.

John ducked on instinct just as a gunshot chipped the door frame inches from where he'd been standing.

"That was a warning. Don't move or she dies! Drop your weapon!"

Reese complied, dropping his gun while slowly raising his hands and turning to meet the latest, _pain in his ass. _

Make that, _'pain-s' in my ass_... Five armed men, stood with guns aimed and Carter and Miller, helplessly, held in the middle of them. They all wore that same infernal leer, the one that every 'criminal' has to master in Bad-Guy 101.

The gunman holding up, a half conscious, Carter, sported an obviously broken and bleeding nose. _Score one for Carter._ Reese thought. But he fumed at the idea that they'd hurt her. "She better be ok." He warned with a dangerous curl to his lips. "And know... I will be killing you soon." He coldly vowed his threat.

"Now, now, come Mr. Reese. No need for more violence." Victoria Miller cooed, with a now, very creole accent, as she stepped from between _her_ men. "Just...please. Finally, answer a few of my questions and I'll let you both go."

Reese pinched his lips and closed his eyes, beyond frustrated and angry with himself for not trusting his gut sooner. "I already told you. I don't know where your husband or the plans are."

"And... I... don't... believe you. You've been one step ahead of me since I put out the hit on dear old Howard. I have no idea how you've managed it, but I'm certain you've orchestrated this whole thing."

Reese watched as Victoria took a few cooky steps closer to him. "You see, I know you killed that traitorous little leech, Steal. Can you fathom the idea that he tried to betray me? And imagine my surprise when, _'a very much alive,'_ Howard, calls to tell that, _'a very not dead,'_ Steal, faked his death and wanted to take the plans for himself! I mean, my gosh!...doesn't anyone actually ever -_really-_ die anymore?!" She flicked her chin towards Reese, "Bring them. We're taking them home my loyal followers." Victoria turned, slinking from the alley, positively beaming with pleased satisfaction.

Reese studied the four man cautiously advanced on him brandishing glock nine millimeters or M4 rifles. Normally he could have dispatched them without breaking a sweat, he'd already calculated five different ways to most efficiently do just that, but with Carter in the middle, vulnerable to stray fire and the fifth guy holding his gun to her ribs, he couldn't risk it... couldn't let anything else happen to her.

Before they reached him, he dropped his phone and smashed it beneath his boot. The men angrily grabbed his arms, roughly wrenching them around to his back. "What she wants is in your head, not your phone, asshole! " That was the last thing he heard before the butt of a rifle was jabbed into the side of head, enveloping him in black nothingness.

* * *

Finch's breath caught in his throat as he listened to the unbelievable exchange, to the dark truth and betrayal unfolding before him. How had he been so remiss with regards to why the machine had truly given them Victoria Lebeau's number - not as a victim but as a perpetrator! How could he have not uncovered a shred of her involvement, seen the fact that she was behind this whole thing?

What he now knew to be his error, had cost Reese and Carter their freedom. And tearing into the depths of LeBeau's past would be his only chance at finding where she was taking them.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing Reese became aware of, was the all too familiar, excruciating pain of being strung up. But it was quickly overshadowed by the desperate need to find Carter.

He forced concussed eyes to focus, squinting against the flickering onslaught of fire light, until he finally pinpointed her hanging form. She too, was hung from the ceiling by thick, knotted ropes.

She was conscious yet, but thankfully, the small trickle of blood at her temple had stopped bleeding.

He swallowed against a sudden wave of nausea and tried to ignore the throbbing of his own temple. He needed to figure out where they'd been taken and how to get them out of here.

Reese carefully studied their surroundings. It reminded him of the temple ruins he's come across while on assignment in the jungles of Cambodia. They hung in the huge central chamber of an old, archaic peristyle building. Vine strangled pillars lined the lengths of the four walls, reaching to the overgrown ceiling in an indiscernible gnarl of winding branches.

Three tiers of steps led down to the expansive stone tiled floor, surrounded by a foot wide reservoir of burning oil. The channel of lapping flames threw duelling shadows across every surface of the room, except for the center. It had it's own burning pit, filled with white hot coals and crackling branches, illuminating what looked to be an altar - right between he and Carter. _In his experience, altars were never a good thing._ "Not good at all... Carter? Carter can you hear me?"

"Mmm hmm..., you don't need to yell..." Carter began to move, opening her eyes, trying to fully focus. "What the...?"

"Hey, take it slow... they hit you pretty hard. You feel sick or dizzy?"

"No, not so much... my shoulders and wrists hurt like hell." Looking up she saw why, coughing a disbelieving laugh. "I can't believe I let that Bitch get the jump on me." She ground out. "Where the hell are we?"

Glad for Carter's, seemingly normal, obstinate reaction, he slowly looked around. "Don't beat yourself up, I missed it too. I knew things were off with her from the start, but just chalked it up to a trying situation. Should have listened to my gut. As to where we are..., I'm guessing she brought us to her voodoo temple."

"Voodoo temple! Are you kidding me? As in, voodoo dolls, chicken blood and raising the evil dead - voodoo? " She looked up, struggling against the ropes a little harder. "Looks more like the set of a bad horror film... Or nightmare." She stopped struggling and frowned at John, "Does Finch know what happened or where we are?"

"I'm sure he heard everything up to the point I destroyed my phone, back at the diner. Couldn't risk them tracking it back to him. What happened to yours?"

"I was texting Taylor when they jumped me. I remember breaking it over someone's nose before I got knocked out. Do we have anything on Victoria that can help us?"

"Well no, nothing that helps at this point... Just that she's a native to New Orleans. Had an abusive father, I'm pretty certain now, she killed by draining him of all his blood. The real clincher is that she's been the one calling the shots this whole time. She put the hit on Miller and had been pulling Steal's strings all along."

"But she's his wife...she could have taken the plans at anytime!"

"I don't think she knew he'd completed them until Steal told her. Miller mentioned something about her not knowing everything. Ironically, I think he was trying to protect her. That's why she needed the one person her husband kept up to date. I wonder what she had on Steal?"

Smacking her lips, "She could have threatened to turn the son of bitch into a zombie for all I care, I just want to get the hell down from here so I can throw her bony ass in jail!" Reese genuinely laughed at that. She'd never heard him really laugh before. How ironic that it would be here, dangling from a ceiling, captured by deranged psychopaths.

Testing her ropes again, "Ok, Mr. ex-Super Spy, time to kick in those super hero - 'escape from anything' - powers of yours and get us outta here." Despite her bravado, she really was scared and prayed he had a plan.

But before he could respond, an almost unrecognizable, Victoria LeBeau entered the chamber. She wore a long, silky, blood-red robe that snaked the floor by a good four feet. Her head was adorned with a matching head wrap, gruesomely decorated with clattering bones - from something they didn't care to identify. Her face was painted a ghostly gray, demonically contrasting with the thick, cracking black makeup encrusting her eyes.

Victory stood at the mouth of the entrance, arms dramatically outstretched as two rows of her disciples filed in from either side. About twenty men, all in tattered grey robes, lined up along the pillars until they were surrounded. Calling them 'men' was a stretch. They were slathered in greenish gray mud and clay, that peeled and crumbled as it dried, appearing as if chunks of their flesh had fallen from their bodies. _Ok... zombies, Reese decided._

"My followers! Hear me! These two before you have wronged your Mambo Priestess and now, I shall be appeased with the offering of their blood and flesh. Look upon those that would think to defy me and know their fate!" Victoria took a seat at the top of the stairs. "You will beg to tell me all you know John Reese! Now, entertain me!" She dispassionately flicked her hand, animating her minions into action.


	5. Chapter 5

(Warning this story is rated M for violence, explicit injuries, drugs, torture and language. No character deaths. Nothing they can't heal from - physically anyway.)

* * *

Four of Victoria's zombies descended the steps, moving in dazed unison until one broke to continue behind John. He felt a thick, muddy arm roughly lock, tightly around his throat. Another two minions grasp his shirt from either side and ripped it from his body. A fourth approached, lips pulled back into a crazed and toothless sneer as he carrying two, ten inch, metal spikes in each of his filth encrusted hands. He stood close enough that his acrid breath assaulted John's senses, to the point of turning his stomach.

John knew this would be the least of the torture to come, but he couldn't help himself. "What? The Zombie gig doesn't offer dental? You really ought to talk to your 'undead' rep., because you smell as gross as you look..." With that, Reese smashed his foot into the distracted man's groin, grinning as he felt the arm around his neck constricted far too late.

"Stop wasting my time!" Victoria warned. "Subdue him!"

A foul snarl wafted around the irate zealot as he clambered back to a semi hunched stand. His rage boiled, erupting into an awkwardly launched attack on Reese. There was nothing John could do as one of the metal spikes was savagely driven into his right shoulder.

Reese tried to suck in a controlling breath while pinching his eyes shut against the pain. He allowed only a grimace to mar his face, but swallowed the scream beckoning for release.

"Oh my God! Stop! You're fucking crazy!" Carter screamed.

Reese opened his eyes, pushing passed the pain and shot Victoria a look of edged defiance. To punctuate, he kneed the femoral nerve of the same idiot, dumb enough to linger within his range. _Who says don't reward stupidity? _John mused.

Victoria stood shouting, "How dare you!" and motioned for another of her fanatics to take the man's place and continue. "You would be wise to tell me what I want to know. This is just the beginning Mr. Reese!"

A new, pock-faced ghoul quickly knelt by his writhing brethren, collecting the second spike. the ghoul seemed hesitant to approach, giving John a false sense of victory, until he realized the man was only studying him, deciding his next target. The pinpointed stare signaled that a decision had been made as he stalked towards Reese.

John ignored the arm still wrapped around his throat and prepared to defend himself with another kick. But a brutally delivered, kidney punch halted any defense. The blow stole his attention just long enough for the approaching ghoul to throw an underhanded thrust, deeply embedding the spike into his, just days old, bullet wound.

Reese gasped, left to swing back and forth in excruciating agony. There was no act of defiance this time, the best he could manage was to stave off the creeping darkness.

* * *

Carter felt sickened by the horror playing out before her. _How could this actually be happening?!_ In her most haunting nightmares she couldn't imagine this. "Reese! John! You fucking bitch! I'm gonna kill you!" She screamed violently jerking against her restraints - praying he was still alive.

"Oh come now Jocelyn... may I call you Jocelyn? You need to recognize him for the filth he is. Cleanse yourself of him. He will bring nothing but suffering to your world. You'll see, soon you will understand what it means to follow real power."

Carter could only watch in terror as more of Victoria's zombie followers filed down the steps, all carrying various instruments of inevitable torture, while John lifelessly dangled from his ropes. She shuddered at the knives that were ceremoniously spread on top of the altar. But her heart stopped with horrified recognition, when she saw the battery and cables. "No don't do this, please! He doesn't know anything, he just follows orders!" She was desperately grasping at lies, knowing it was dangerous to downplay his importance too much. _The consequences could end like poor Olson._ She worried.

But her words went ignored as the zombies continued setting up the next phase of grizzly entertainment for their High Priestess. Roughly, a cable lead was clamped to each spike tip, protruding about five inches from John's body. Two buckets of cold water were crudely dumped over his defenceless form, bringing him painfully, sputtering back to consciousness.

Carter struggled, desperately trying to get free of her bonds, but her arms were already numb and raw from the harsh ropes suspending her off the ground. For precious, but fleeting moments, she was able to balance on her toes, alleviating some of the pressure, but more importantly, help her twist around to search for any ideas for escape. _Nothing! Dammit..._ _think Carter. Think._ But a sickening sizzle of snapping electricity spun her back to John. _Oh God! _

John released a teeth clenching howl, continuing to involuntarily twitch with the blinding spasms and intense convulsions. What he knew were mere seconds, felt like several exhausting hours.

Torture was nothing new to him. He'd endured many, different and creative methods at the hands of countless terror groups, militia, rebels, mobs... _all assholes with their own paramount agendas and colorful ways to get them - none pleasant, to say the least._ But he'd always been able to control the pain. He had been trained to separate his mind from his body, move beyond it... escape it. But this time something was wrong. He couldn't.

Carter. It was Carter's tears that anchored him here, left him unable to move his mind passed her look of complete anguish. For the first time in his life, he felt truly and powerlessly tortured.

"AAAaaaahh!" Another surge of electricity jolted through his body, showering his nerves with blinding, white hot acid. When his vision finally cleared, he slowly raised his head, angrily committing every ugly face to memory. _They would be the ones he killed first. _

"This can all end if you simply tell me what I want to know." Reese cast her a challenging look and spit blood on the closest minion. "I - don't - know - anything." Reese ground out.

Victoria pointed to the altar, "Use the Coco Macaco. You will especially enjoy this Mr. Reese. This is an ancient Haitian voodoo death stick. The myth says, the Macaco can move on its own to do my bidding and if struck by it, you will die before the dawn. Shall we see if this myth holds true?" Tilting her chin toward Reese, the order was given.

The four foot, gnarled, wooden stick was reeled back and let fly, lashing across his unprotect ribcage with breath stealing force. John painfully drew in on himself, left desperately gasping for oxygen. But despite his battle to breathe, he tracked three of Victoria's men heading toward Carter. _They were carrying something... _Something his blurred vision couldn't make out. Ramping up his fears that much more.

"Again!" Another malicious strike and John was in utter misery, fighting to get, even the tiniest bit, of oxygen to his burn lungs.

"Stop it! You're killing him! He can't tell you anything if you kill him!" Carter cried, pleading with a desperate logic.

"Ah, you mis-understand my dear. It is true, that I want the information he possesses, but my vengeance and reputation mean far more. It's only a matter of time before my hired assassins find dear old Howard in any case. So you see, I will eventually get what I want, but no one will ever betray me again. They will learn and fear what I do to him - today. If you help me..., get him to talk, then I will end this fast. If not... then I will hunt down his family, friends and lovers, starting with you my pet. So you would be wise to help me now." Victoria sung.

Carter knew reasoning would only antagonize this _deranged bitch;_ so she said nothing, opting instead, to lash out at the approaching men. A lucky kick to one of minions' chins, barely had time to registered before he bonelessly crumpled to the ground. But the others simply ignored him, stepping over his prone body and filling his place with another deranged disciple.

_God how do we win this!?_ _ There's an endless flow of evildoers waiting in the wings!_ Carter could only silently plead as they grasped and held her body, while rough hands pinched her jaw until it was painfully forced open. She was given no choice but to gag down the acrid liquid being spilled into her mouth.

* * *

Reese violently thrashed against his restraints, helplessly watching Carter as she choked. The zombies seemed distracted by Carter and oblivious to his struggling. He used the moment in a desperate attempt to untie his bonds. His intention was to pull his legs up and grab the rope, holding himself there while undoing the knots. But too much trauma to his upper body had taken its toll, making it nearly impossible to accomplish the task - quickly or otherwise.

He's futile attempts, however, did not remain unnoticed as one of the guarding men threw a reprimanding flick, of the electric shock switch. Once again, Reese was paralyzed in the searing hold of agony and incapable of helping Carter - bolstering Victoria's extreme pleasure as she looked on.


	6. Chapter 6

(Warning Rated M to be safe. Contains - violence, torture, explicit injuries, language, drug use and good old fashioned Reese ass kicking! No character deaths)

* * *

Demented cries joined Victoria as she threw her head back in howling with laugher._ Oh, how she was enjoying her revenge! _

_This vile man had destroyed her years of carefully laid plans. Wasting all those repulsive months she was forced to tolerate her spineless husband. Those months had been a slow and agonizing torture, a torture she only endured knowing she would soon possess the reactor plans - possess POWER itself! She would find the plans, then kill her idiot husband, eventually. But this vigilante, Mr. John Reese, would be made to pay for cheater of her victory. His sacrifice would be a glaring testament of her deadly power. _

_Oh yes! She was reveling in his pain and to watch it at the hands of his partner, only made it that much more perfection! _

A low drumbeat rose from the chamber as Victoria stood and cast a dark glare at Carter. "You begin to feel the ancient power coursing through your body. Embrace the power as it awakens, for it is time to give yourself to me and experience the greatness of serving your Mambo Priestess. Now ravage traitorous flesh and spill the blood of the sacrifice. I command it - kill him!"

* * *

A devilish chanting beat reverberated off the walls, "Mambo, mambo..."

Carter's anger flared, '_Bitch! I'm going to end you!' _ But her words were never heard. Her body was already being heavily effected by the drugs poisoning her system. The room spun, causing her eyes to roll to the back of her head. She needed to throw up, wanted and tried to, but was held in place by the clammy hands of Victoria's demons. Bursts of color exploded behind tightly closed eyelids, matching each drumbeat and throb of her head.

She was losing herself, becoming the helpless puppet of this hellish nightmare. She fought against the gruesomely distorted hands clawing and wrapping around her body, ripping the very flesh from her bones...

"No!" She screamed, desperate to surface from the hallucinations... desperate to hold onto the fleeting moments of lucidity. _Oh God, oh God! It wasn't my skin... it was...my shirt...the ropes._ _They cut the ropes and ripped off my shirt!_ _ I'm loosing it!_ _I can't hold on. _"_Aghhhh! _Let go of me!" She shrieked with frustrated fury.

Suddenly the zombies that had held her, vanished, as if turned to dust and dirt. She shook her head, but still not able to recognize that she now, sat on the ground, studying handfuls of dirt with a lost cluelessness.

With a venomous, ear-piercing scream, she ripped the remains of her tattered blouse from her body. She was so hot. Carter could feel the moisture of her tears, but they did nothing to quell the burning of her flesh or the fire boiling in her veins. A fire that continued to grow until it was a blinding fury and need. _ Fury for what? Need from whom?_ She couldn't remember and no longer cared. The only thing she was aware of, was the burning desire for violent release and unbridled satisfaction.

The deafening sound of her heart pounded in time to the devilish beat, taking the last shreds her control. She climbed to her feet, for a moment simply stood poised, until the music drew her into slow gyrations that grew into a wild, demonic dance. Carter snaked around the stone altar with a slinking grace, moving in rhythm with the swaying flames as if it were her dance partner. She was oblivious to the world around her, until she felt herself drawn, ensnared by the intoxicating web of John's enthralling eyes.

* * *

Reese marveled, watching the firelight illuminate the pearls of sweat glistening over Carter's half naked body as she prowled a path of unknown intent. She stopped, just in front of him, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her body.

He hardly recognized this entranced creature as _his_ Carter. Her eyes were lost in a drug induced madness that filled him with regret and fear. "Joss, it's ok, it's only a hallucinogen and will pass...you can fight it. Stay with me." Reese pleaded.

His eyes followed her hands as they glided over his chest, savagely sinking their nails to pull bloody welts all the way down his stomach. "Carter!" John's eyes reddened with his failure to protect her. "Carter, I'm so sorry. It's just the drugs... it's not your fault. Please hold on to my voice and come back to me. Joss I..."

Carter paused, leaning into him, pressing her heated body to his bare chest. She breathed him in, while tortuously trailing her teeth and tongue up his neck and jaw. He sharply inhaled, fighting his body's response to her wicked advances. He was lost, oblivious to the hand wrapping around the metal spike in his side, until she fiercely torn from his body.

Reese cried out from the sudden rip of tissue and shock. She, simply smiled at him with wild eyed satisfaction and tossed the metal over her shoulder into the flaming pit at the base of the altar. Embers took to the air from the disturbance, casting eerie, orange highlights across their still, closely pressed bodies.

Slowly she slid a hand up his sweat and blood slicked skin, over his battered, but beautiful stomach and chest, to stop around the spike in his shoulder. Reese pleaded with his eyes, trying to get through where his words had no effect. But with an inhuman cry she shoved them apart, still clutching the blood covered metal as he swung from his ropes and choked on a growl of searing pain.

Even through his haze, Reese knew this would be hurting Carter as much emotionally as it was him physically. Depending on what they'd given her, at some level she would be aware yet powerless against its effects. Having experienced or used them as tools of interrogation and torture, he understood all too well the evil power these kind of drugs possessed.

He would never forgive their use on Carter.

* * *

Carter tried to concentrate, fight through the fog whirling around in her mind as she stalked around the beaten, but bewitching body hanging before her. She was both mesmerized by the blazing force behind the blue of his eyes and yet confused by their progressively, waning intensity. _No. This wasn't right._ _ She wasn't ready for this core to extinguish. _

Victoria urged. "You see Mr. Reese, how she studies you like her prey, contemplating her next strike."

Reese ignored Victoria's ludicrous explanation, instead closely studied Carter's movements. She stalked around the fire, examining it as if it held some magical answer to her unasked question, until finally snatching a burning stick from its flames. She spun with the stick held above her head, filling the air with cascading embers as she swirled her way behind the altar.

She gave pause, again lost in contemplation as she hovered her hand over each laid out weapon, before choosing a long and ominous scimitar. With both weapons, held high, she took off in a flight of erotic dancing. The chanting increased, matching the speeding drum beats as she came to an abrupt and flailing halt before Reese.

A look of sad understanding filled John's eyes, "Carter, whatever happens... you have to make it out of here. Stay alive. I'm so sorry I failed you. I..." But his words were cut short as she stabbed the burning stick to his bleeding side, leaving it there until the smell of burning flesh poisoned the air.

John's agonized scream was drowned out by the victorious cheering and ever frantic drum beats filling the chamber. Carter tossed her head back in a feral yell, eyes focused as she, once again, thrust the scorching wood into Reese's wounded shoulder, withdrawing only after the sizzle of skin filled his own ears.

He had no breath or energy left, as she approach him once more. To him, she was a vision, an Amazon of untamed beauty, with her crazed intensity, strong, glistening body, and mane of wild hair swirling over smooth cocoa skin. He sadly smiled. "Joss...please know, I love you." Her eyes were void of any recognition or comprehension as she raised the sword, wielding high above her head. She faltered for only a second before descending with the final strike.

John closed his eyes, holding her in his mind and prayed she would survive as he hit the stone floor.

* * *

The room exploded in a roaring cacophony of anticipated and excitement. This display of her unchallenged superiority, would seal her claim as High Priestess to ALL who would oppose her. She was victorious despite the disruption of her previous scheme. "Delicious! Glorious victory!" Victoria sang...


	7. Chapter 7

... "Delicious! Glorious victory!" Victoria sang... until realization struck her silent!

* * *

Burning adrenaline surged through his veins, working its magic to dull the pain and spark his destroyed body back to life as he awkwardly scrambled to his feet.

John was still trying to fully process the shocking blur of events. Somehow, Carter had managed to battle passed the drug's effects to free him. He didn't think he could find the words to describe the multitude of emotions he was feeling, or if he even wanted to try. Either way, he didn't have the luxury to figure that out. Soon, it would be made a moot point, when Victoria's horde realized what had just happened.

He was free, he was alive and that was good enough for now.

In an instant, he made it to the weapon covered altar. He threw blade after blade with lethal accuracy, embedding them into the still clueless zealots. Only after five had fallen, were the devilish drums forgotten and replaced by the war cries of inciting direction and shocked anger.

"Attack! Kill them, NOW!" Reese heard Victoria's frantic orders desperately screamed to advance the mob. Carter came up beside him, grabbing another scythe-style blade to accompany her scimitar. She took two steps toward the approaching men, before mindlessly slicing a bloody swath, through anyone foolish enough to come within her proximity.

Reese carefully kept her within his peripheral had he seen Carter fight with such unchecked fury. He knew everyone had a dark side, most lived their whole lives blissfully unaware of its existence, but her's was running with unbridled devastation. Though she was amazing to watch, he could only hope she won't remember much. Her life was so dependent on her, black and white, rules and cherished morality. _This was going to be hard for her to live with._ He knew all too well.

Reese had no delusions about himself, as he hacked down another two attackers. _He was the darkness._ He couldn't help the sinful satisfaction he felt as he ended another of the tormentors, he'd vowed to kill. As much as he hated himself for it, their lives depended on his cold, remorseless detachment and ruthless finality. _Carter's life depended on it. _He justified_._

With the last two remaining fixed-blades, he moved on the offensive. These men had no discernible skills or order, they simply attacked with messy, blind mayhem. John easy took out the charging minions. Expertly stepping through the fray, he struck and slashed, limiting his strikes to only the most effective against the overwhelming numbers. Throats, spines, vital organs and key tendons, rapidly and permanently, he dispatched his foe.

An end was finally in sight as they worked their way down to the last six minions, until a loud clamor drew John's attention towards the temple entrance. _Seriously?_ Another army of men rushed in their direction.

Reese looked at Carter, still lost in her delusional attack and decimating everything within reach, but he knew their only chance now was to escape. _They couldn't keep this up much longer!_

"Carter we have to get out, now!" As he wrapped his arm around her waist, he had to use his knife to block a deadly swipe from her blade. "Dammit Carter! Don't do that! It's me!" Carter owlishly blinked at him, then grinned with a snarl as she buried her blade into a zombie poised to impale John. "Ok...better..., thanks." He breathlessly praised as he quickened their pace.

"Duck!" John slide his arm up to Carter's shoulder, pushing her forward and clear of the knife he tossed over her and into a lunging ghoul.

They steadily fought their way towards the back of the temple, until Reese spotted a barrel of lamp oil _and just what they needed. _

Using a pillar, he braced himself and pushed it over with both feet, sending the rapidly dumped oil cascading down the steps and overflowing the fire reservoirs. Flames leap up, catching the vine covered ceiling and spreading in a treacherous flow of molten death. The last thing he heard was Victoria's screaming vows to, _'Kill them, and everyone they loved,'_ as the horde was cut off by the inferno...

...and _an advantage he had no intention of wasting._

* * *

Stumbling from the temple, Reese waited for his eyes to adjust to the jungle's endless expanse of thick blackness. The flames behind them offered only hints of dancing definition, but behind the curtain of black growth, the faint hint of escape grew clearer.

"Trucks! Come on, Carter!" John pulled her through the collection of haphazardly parked 4x4's. He chanced the time to slash a tire from each, as they worked their way to the last one.

"Get in!" He shoved her across the bench seat, garnering a surprised yelp. Reese pulled the visor and gratefully caught the falling keys; infinitely relieved he wouldn't have to hotwire the vehicle.

He threw the truck into gear and hurled them down the slick, swampy road... "and away from this godforsaken nightmare." He mumbled.

* * *

John check the rearview mirror often, still, with no signs of their psychotic captors as he slid and bounced the old truck through the narrow bayou underbrush. The pounding abuse was killing him, on occasion, the hard landings dotted and grayed the edges of his vision. But he pushed on, determined to get them to safety.

With concern, Reese glanced at Carter across the cab. She had wedged herself into the corner, against the door, gripping the fabric and door handle with a white-knuckled intensity. She was perspiring and her breathing had become a fast and shallow pant. He could only imagine what tormenting thoughts were going on in her drug clouded mind, but her body language suggested _nothing good._

"Carter, hang in there. It's just the drugs. I'm going to help you, ok. You're safe now, I promise."

A soft whimper was the only acknowledgment that she'd heard him, but she continued her paranoid bracing as if her life depended on it. Reese still didn't see any evidence of being pursued, so he dared to slow, the old 4x4, to a more manageable speed. _Wouldn't help if he killed them now_. But he had to hurry.

He had to find a town..., a place with medical supplies and a phone. The sooner the better, because he could feel what was left of his adrenaline running out, and they'd be sitting ducks on this one lane road if he passed out.

"Carter stay with me." He said, encouraging the both of them.

* * *

Finch had been furiously working on his laptop, gathering scant bits of seemingly, unrelated information, until the random collection suddenly coalesced into the gruesome story of an extremely dangerous and driven crime lord.

Vic Mambo and Victoria Emmam Lebeau, were one and the same.

Once Finch was able to establish Victoria as the infamous crime boss, he'd found documented confessions of captured members, detailing barbaric tales of ritualistic slayings and hundreds of suspicious, unsolved police reports, dating back to Lebeau's disappearance from public view.

He was now certain that she'd been responsible for her father's monstrous death, laying the groundwork for the creation of her own, sadistic version, of the voodoo religion. She based her heinous empire on drugs, violence and crime, shrouding it in voodoo myth and magic, instilling righteous fear in all it touched. As the self proclaimed, _Mambo High Priestess_ of the voodoo community, she dictated both, her cult followers and crime organization, as an iron fisted tyrant.

She had orchestrated diabolical crimes, ranged from kidnapping and torture, to mutilation and murder. Her most recent scheme, not only threatened the life of brilliant scientist, but had now ensnared both Mr. Reese and Detective Carter.

Her ultimate goal all along, had been to have soul control of, what could very well be, the most life altering invention of this century and was - _literally - power itself; in the form of a perpetual energy reactor. _

Finch swallowed down the icy chill. _If she succeeded, she would become untouchable._

He felt responsible, should have considered the possibility that the machine had given them Victoria's number, not as the victim, but as the perpetrator - _far, far, sooner!_ He scolded.

Of course it made sense now, but hindsight was of little help to Mr. Reese and Detective Carter. He could only pray they were alright and that he had correctly deciphered the evidence pointing to their location.

_Fifteen minutes to landing..._ He just stared out the jet's window, lost to his fears and the black nothingness. Hoping they were alright.

* * *

John was beyond relieved when the jungle brush began drawing back, opening from the grueling path, to a wider, more traveled road. But it wasn't until they hit the smooth, blessedness of asphalt that he could attempt any real inhale of oxygen, ignoring his protesting cracked _and/or_ broken ribs.

Of course, when he saw the distant lights dotting the northern horizon, he down played any sense of relief, not entirely sure they were from an actual town or just the figments of his spotting vision. _He head towards it regardless._ He thought.

_With any luck, they'd find civilization and what they needed._

Unfortunately, their pursuers would expect them to do just that. But there was no other choice...


	8. Chapter 8

Victoria's temper flared. "How could you let this happen!"_ It had taken so much, infuriatingly, wasted time changing the stupid tires!_ _On top of the unthinkable survival and escape of her enemies. This whole thing was beyond reason!_ She fumed. _And she'd never had a drugged subject act against her will like that before! _

She vowed to kill them in the most public and vile way imaginable, but only after they begged for mercy and prayed for death! _I swore it!_ To punctuate her inner ranting, Victoria drove a sword through one of her laboring minions, uncaringly stepping over his dying body as she climbed into a truck. "I will NOT tolerate failure again! Lets go!"

* * *

The town was a sparse and dilapidated conglomeration of old Creole architecture, ignored and forgotten, so far from any tourist attractions or central cities. The late hour, added to the almost abandoned feel, but that suited Reese all the more. He didn't need the hassle of dodging the locals, just wanted to find supplies and a safe place to take care of Carter.

Cautiously idling through the town, he noted all the usual amenities, gas stations, café, bars and most importantly a medical clinic.

Reese pulled the truck around back, carefully concealing it behind the clinic and some thick bushes as much as possible. He knew this would be the first place they'd check. _Hell, he would..._ But he had a plan, crude as it was, it would buy them the time they needed.

"Carter? Joss... Listen to me. I'm going to get something to help. Ok? I'll only be a minute. Stay here." He had to hurry. She was clearly in distress, violently shaking, erratic breathing, and profuse sweating. He was pleased to see that she at least looked at him this time, but the look in her eyes killed him. "Hang on Carter..." He whispered.

* * *

The clinic's alarm was simple, John had it bypassed in two seconds and the door wasn't re-enforced, so a well planted kick had it splintered off its hinges, in less. But what should have been an inconsequential impact had him doubled over in pain, clutching his ribs and trying to stave off the his graying vision. _'Ugh... that was... stupid.'_ He breathlessly cursed while gingerly moving inside.

Finding the room he wanted didn't take long. It was a small clinic, lobby, three exam rooms, simple surgery and medical supply room, which as expected, was the only locked door. _A door he wasn't about to try to break down this time._

John could feel the clock ticking, or more like pounding in his head. Picking the lock should have been child's play, but shaking hands, slicked with cold sweat and blurring vision, complicated things. _Dammit. Come on John._

With a final click, the door opened. Reese was relieved to see the three glass shelves well stocked. He'd worried such a small clinic might not have what he wanted, but then again, any town this close to Victoria's _'activities'_ would have seen its fair share of _outlandish_ injuries.

A large medical bag served well to catch everything Reese threw in. He shoved painkillers, benzodiazepines, narcan, and antibiotics as fast as he could identify them. Next came the iv lines, fluid bags, syringes, and bandages. _Only thing left, was a phone._

Reese hefted the bag over his shoulder when a sudden wave of dizziness hit with such disorienting force, he was sent sideways, smashing into the glass shelves. It took a second for the world to stop spinning enough to pull himself upright, using the counter. Something was really wrong. He could no longer breath, his chest felt like it was being squeezed by a giant vice and his heart rate plunged, dangerously low... _He didn't have time for this! _

In desperation, knowing he only had moments of consciousness left, he staggered to the emergency drugs, clumsily knocking them from the shelves as he frantically searched. He knew his body was going into shock, shutting down, and likely cardiac arrest. His driving thought, was that Carter needed him.

_Finally!_ _he found it. _Fumbling open the container, he yanked the needle cap off with his teeth and jabbed the syringe of atropine into his thigh. He collapsed against the counter and sank to the floor. Panic wasn't far off as he concentrated on sucking in one small breath at time and staying conscious.

It took three, eternally long, minutes for the full effects of the hormone to finally ease his body's distress and kickstart his system. His vision began to clear with the increase in his heart rate and blood pressure. He could again breath as his whole body revved up.

Reese wasn't sure how long the drug would keep him going, _so he would damn well pushed hard while he could._ He slung the bag over his shoulder and made for the lobby. It would have a phone.

"Finch, it's me."


	9. Chapter 9

Warning Rated M * contains explicit injury detail. No outright gore... Just fixing what Victoria broke.

* * *

"John! Oh thank God! Are you and the Detective alright? Where are you?" Finch's voice pitched with his indescribable relief.

Reese swallowed trying to sound normal. "Carter's rough, was drugged. We're..." Reese searched the desk for anything with an address," in Franklin LA ,but have to move quickly. Victoria's men can't be far behind and I don't know how much longer I have."

"Mr. Reese, I'm close... about fifteen minutes from Franklin. Where exactly?" Finch quickly tamped down the rush of emotions and regained his controlled composure. _It was important that he concentrate on reading between John's cryptic lines as fast as possible._

Reese had no idea, how it was possible that Finch was here. Honestly, it didn't matter, he was just beyond relieved that he was. "We're at the Franklin Medical Clinic on Main. I'm going to create a diversion. Give me five minutes and call in an armed robbery. Tell them it was a gang attack and make sure to mention they're driving 4x4 trucks. Keep a low profile. She's extremely dangerous and will use anything, or anyone, to her advantage. We'll be waiting across the street, in back of the gas station. And Finch... glad you're here."

* * *

The rented Lincoln blew down the dark, pot-holed country road as Finch finished placing the call to the local police. It wasn't hard for him to make the call sound realistically panicked, full of emotion, or stressed... it was a truthful release.

He'd been so overwhelmed to hear from John, he hadn't realized his excitement was being translated to his foot - _pegging 130 mph on the old HWY... was a bit too risky._

Last thing he wanted was to complicate an already, spiraling situation. _'Less than helpful.'_ He admonishingly muttered, easing back to a more, inconspicuous, but swift 80 mph.

* * *

Hidden in the gas station's alleyway, Reese crouched next to Carter's semi dozing form. He peered across the street, grinning with an odd sense of pleased satisfaction, as his handy work unfolded. The walls of the clinic crumbled and caved, dropping in piles of cement blocks, dry wall, and glass, thoroughly covering the destroyed 4x4. _Sending the heavy truck smashing through the front of the lobby, made for the perfect diversion._

By now, Finch would have altered the police. They'd be well on their way to swarming the area, and on the lookout for any suspicious activity, gang members and trucks. Victoria and her men would have their hands full avoiding the extra attention, and hopefully, be deterred in her searching rampage, altogether. Or at the very least, slow it down.

Victoria had to be stopped, that was an absolute. But right now, all the mattered was getting Carter out of harm's way. He'd given her a shot of Lorazepam, to help ease her anxiety and paranoia, but she needed more care and time to recuperate. Now that he knew where Victoria's hideout was, he could make the next move.

_And with Finch here, things just got a whole lot easier._

* * *

As if on cue, Finch dimmed his headlights and pulled into the gas station. Hurriedly, he picked his way through the darkness to assist John with the Detective. "Mr. Reese. I'm happy to see you weren't bored." He looked up at the scene of total destruction. "But I fear, we only have a matter of seconds before the authorities arrive."

"I'm counting on it." John stated and slumped into the passenger seat with extreme gratefulness.

"I have a jet waiting at the Lafayette Airport. We could be there in fifty minutes." Finch offered.

"We're not leaving..."

Finch was frankly surprised by the statement, but since Mr. Reese didn't sound like he cared to elaborate on the subject, he concentrated on alluding the police and headed north.

* * *

"Mr. Reese? " Finch tried yet again to stir the exhausted ex-op. "Mr. Reese, are you awake? We're coming up on the next town. Where exactly are we going?"

John blearily came to. Like most remote country towns, there would be plenty of back road hideouts, abandoned barns and dark fields, but John wanted something better. "Some place that will give us a tactical advantage and with a defensible lay out, should Victoria and her goons come sniffing."

"My apologies, could you possibly repeat that in more..., civilian specific?"

"Sorry. A hidden and secure place, with good visibility and cover all the way around, and with more than one way in or out. Not to mention active utilities... water... power."

"You know, we could be back in New York in under three hours." Finch offered.

Reese worked his clenched jaw. "No, we aren't finished here." But before Finch could push, John sharply spun his head. "Wait! There...pull in there."

* * *

The old brick car garage, sat a good two hundred yards off the main road, there was ample space all around it, offering a good 360 field of vision. Three roads stretched out in opposite directions, _perfect._ The business name had long since fallen into unpainted decay, but the sign lamp still worked, so there was power. It looked structurally sound enough, and the brick would offer solid cover against bullets. Plus, since it was a garage, they could hide the car inside. "This'll do."

* * *

Using a crowbar and just his weight, Reese broke the lock on the rusting metal doors, so Finch could idle the car inside.

Their headlights panned across the interior. Though it was an old shop, it wasn't overly filthy and was far from abandoned. The office and lobby seemed well furnished and there was a bathroom.

Finch felt along the wall for the light switch he'd spotted while driving in. Thankfully, the bulbs were still in working order, though dim, they adequately defined the large space as he moved to assist Mr. Reese with the Detective. That's when he caught his first, haltingly, clear glimpse of John.

Finch laid a hand on the car to steady his reaction. Nothing could have prepared him for the hideous condition of this, normally formidable, polished and suavely menacing, man he was used to seeing.

Reese walked with a strained gate, shirtless, scarred and bleeding from numerous, appalling wounds. His body still bore the bruises from the events from just days ago, but now they seemed to blend into one mass of continuous torment. "God, John..." Finch stammered.

Reese attempted a reassuring smile - failing miserably. "Looks worse than it is."

"I doubted that's even possible, Mr. Reese." He was far from convinced.

Reese bent into the back set, tenderly collecting Carter into his arms, while ignoring both, the protests of his injuries and Finch's hovering eyes. Despite the pain, it still stuck him, how good she felt in his embrace. Reese savored the closeness.

Carter had fallen into a deep, sedated sleep shortly after receiving the shot. John was thankful it had quickly abated her symptoms and relaxed her tense, shaking muscles. She amazed him, how she could still look so strong, so beautiful was beyond him.

John carried her into the lobby and gently deposited her onto one, of the two couches. There had been a jacket in the back of the car, he now draped over Carter. Finch had been behind him, bringing the bag of medical supplies, and he was pretty certain, Carter wouldn't appreciate being seen in just her bra.

Practically falling to his knees, he exhaustedly swiped an arm over the coffee table, clearing it of its clutter for Finch to set the supplies. A sucking grunt of pain was thankfully, camouflaged by the noise of everything hitting the floor.

"Do you need anything, John?" Lacking any real medical expertise, this was where Finch felt at a lost.

"No, thanks I got this. I'll be there in minute."

Finch took no offense to the subtle dismissal, recognizing that Mr. Reese just needed a moment alone. It was painfully obvious they'd both been through hell and back, so he quietly exited to the adjoining room and allowed them some privacy.

* * *

Finally being about to tend Carter was a relief. He was sure he needed this, as a type of emotional therapy, as much as she needed it, medically. _All of this was his fault, after all._

In concentrated silence, he ran an IV and started a saline drip, infusing it with Narcan to rehydrate and stabilize her glucose levels. He moved on to her injuries. Ever so gently, he smoothed a moistened cloth over her head wound, applying surgical tape to help hold the split skin together. _If he could 're-kill that ghoul, he would... Once would never be enough._

He grimaced with each piece of tape he pressed to her temple, so intently focused on not hurting her, he missed the pair of sleepily, brown eyes studying him.

"I kinda like the Florence Nightingale, thing..." Carter weakly whispered.

"Why, hello Detective, feeling any better?" He nonchalantly asked. He was prepared enough to hide his ragged emotions at hearing joke_,_ but not for the words that followed.

"John, I'm so sorry." Her voice was barely an audible whisper as her eyes traveled over his marred body.

Reese blinked in disbelieving surprise. _What?! She had nothing to be sorry about! He'd gotten her into this whole mess and hadn't been able to save her from its horrors. _ "Joss, if it wasn't for me you wouldn't have been put into this situation in the first place. I'm the one who's sorry." He avoided her sorrow filled eyes, instead paying the medical tape he held, far too much attention.

Carter struggled to sit up, feeling light-headed and a bit queasy, but she was also determined that he hear her. "John. I'm sorry, for what I did to you," ghosting her fingertips over his gruesomely damaged shoulder.

He met her eyes, tenderly capturing her hand with his long fingers, and chose his words carefully. "If it wasn't for you..., we wouldn't be here now. You have to realize that? What you did? You saved us, saved me... fooling Victoria by disguising everything you did to look like torture... You were amazing."

He moved carefully, shifting closer on his knees. "I would have eventually bled out, been shocked to death or worse. You took that away from them, stopped the bleeding by cauterizing my wounds, then," He stopped with a swallow, "freed me..., kept me going."

He'd spoken the last words so quietly, Carter wasn't sure she'd heard them, as he glanced away to change the subject. "Here drink this."

She sipped the offered water he held to her lips as he continued. "What I can't figure out, is how you managed to override the drugs? Work an angle?"

She looked down with an uncomfortable smile playing across her face, "I...I wasn't always a cop, John. I grew up in some bad parts of town, it was hard not to get sucked into some of the shit too. I made my share of 'mistakes,' I'm not proud of... but guess some tolerances carried over, or at least how to control the ride." She rubbed her eyes, blinking to stay awake. _She couldn't believe she'd just told him that. Whatever the hell medicine he was giving her, was dangerous, loosened her tongue way too much. Shut up now._

He gave her a gentle and understanding smile. "Bet you never thought you'd be thankful for those mistakes." He smoothed a strand of stray hair from her face,"You need to get some rest now."

He caught her questioningly, looking around the room. "It's just a place we found to lay low. Should be safe from Victoria for a while, and I'm sure Finch brought supplies, so we're good to defend ourselves."

"Finch?" She looking at him with as much surprise, her tired muscles would allow.

He shrugged with a wince, immediately regretting the movement. "Don't ask, because I honestly, have no idea how he found us." Opting for a hand gesture and cock of his head, "He's Harold Finch... How does he do half the things he does?"

Carter managed a grin of amused agreement, but was no longer able to utter her thoughts or fight her heavy eyelids pushing for sleep. Whatever John had given her, had also taken away the fractured panic, allowing a comfortable calm to lull her to sleep. But it was his stalwart presence, his nearness and the sound of his voice that truly made her feel soothed and protected.

John couldn't have been more relieved, by how well she was responding to the treatment. Her vitals were good, she'd been coherent and her wounds were thankfully, superficial. He felt like a weight had been lifted off his battered shoulders. And right now, all he wanted to do was wrap her in his arms and keep her safe. But there was work to be done, so he forced himself up from the floor to plan his next move.

* * *

It was surreal seeing Finch on his computer, here, in this dingy, forgotten, car garage. A thousand miles from home, and for all the world, looking completely normal and at ease, working on his laptop as if it were just another day in the library. _It felt good, this sliver of normalcy... It allowed him to breathe, if only for just a moment._

"How is the Detective?" Finch looked up.

"She'll feel a lot better in the morning. So, how'd you find us? And please, don't say magic... I'm kind of done that whole scene."

"Hardly, Mr. Reese." But Finch appreciated the attempted levity. "I used the information I pieced together on Lebeau, her connections to the Voodoo Syndicate, their many, many crimes, both rumored and documented reports, eventually narrowing everything to this general location. I figured flying into Lafayette and heading in this direction would give me the best chance to pick up your trail."

"So you got lucky." John poked, but couldn't sound serious. "Well, I'm impressed and grateful. Its good to have you here, Harold. Did you bring supplies?"

"Yes of course. But Mr. Reese..." Finch stood looking him in the eye with a serious concern. "...John. What happened?" The man looked like he could collapse at any moment.

John dodged the question. "Can you to pull up maps of the swamps, located about thirty minutes East of here?"

Finch persisted using a softer, coaxing tone. "Mr. Reese, what did she do?" He knew the look in John's eyes. It was the same one he'd had, after Mr. Reese rescued him from Root, and it wasn't until John had finally gotten him to talk about it, that things... _got better, easier._

John's anger grew, _this was pointless._ "Harold, this doesn't help, the only thing that - will,- is putting her and her operation in the ground!" He growled the last words.

John's expression darken even more, as he carefully spoke his next words. "Finch. She won't stop. She'll target everyone close to us, by any and all means necessary, until she gets what she wants - or I stop her first."

Harold was taken aback by the gravity and conviction of his vow. But he understood Reese's anger and trusted him implicitly. This situation had gotten excessively dangerous and out of control, far more so, the moment Victoria had taken the two of them captive. "So what do you intend to do? You look like death warmed over and are barely able to stand."

Mustering all the commanding presence as he had left, Reese moved to stand in front of Finch. "There's no time to waste. Where're the bags, Harold?"

Finch stepped aside, pointing to the back seat and let John pass. He knew John was right, but it still didn't justified rash decisions or irrational actions. Finch simply refused to play an encouraging part and chance the cost. "What you are talking about is suicide."

John ignored him. All his focus was on trying to lift one of the heavy bags from the back seat and more importantly, hide the frustrated agony it caused.

_This was ludicus._ Finch thought. _Here they were, senselessly spitting their frustrations, when lives depended on clear reason and planning._

Finch reached out, placing a halting, but kind, hand on John's shoulder while slipping the bag's strap over to his. "John, you're right. I don't dispute the dire need stop Lebeau, I'm only saying, not this minute." _Perhaps the black and white facts would be more convincing than the black and blue ones._ "We just need to take a step back, if only for a moment, to collect viable data. She won't be expecting retaliation, so need to exploit that advantage through careful planning and strategy. And I'm afraid your usual 'guns blazing' tactic may fall short in this instance." He hadn't even know he was holding his breath, until his risked levity, brought the slightest acquiescing grin to John's face.

_Damn him._ John sighed. He knew Finch was right and his logic was more than sound, despite the fact that his anger was telling to attack, right now, without thought or reason. But to defy logic was suicide and he couldn't afford to fail. The bigger picture depended on him to succeed. He was the last line of defense.

He took as deep a breath, or at least as deep as he could, and conceded. "Ok Finch, you win."

* * *

A few hours later, the police bands quieted their explosive chatter. They'd been jammed with report, after report, detailing the armed confrontations, high speed pursuits and numerous casualties from police clashing with Victoria and her men. In the end, eight _'gang members'_ were killed, five were arrested and an undetermined number were lost to the bayou back roads. No mention of Victoria herself.

"Well, looks like your diversion worked Mr. Reese. I think it's safe to say Victoria and her_ 'not so'_ merry men, have retreated to their swampy lair. May I suggest we take a break and see to your injuries, before ignoring them is no longer a choice." He'd been trying to get Mr. Reese to acknowledge his deteriorating condition for hours, but nothing short of unconsciousness would tear John from a mission.

Even plagued with pain, Reese had impressively come up with a rough, but plausible plan, despite not yet having a clear way in, being short on details and long on assumptions. _But if anyone could even the odds it would be Mr. Reese. He always did. _Finch mused.

"No. I'm ok..." But the simple movement of looking up from the computer was enough to spin the room, causing Reese to pitch sideways. He hadn't even noticed Finch move, until he was right there, stopping his fall. "Ok, you maybe right."

* * *

Harold helped John to the office, who, for the umpteenth time, checked on Carter before settling on the adjacent couch.

Even with the authorities keeping Victoria at bay, he couldn't chance using any morphine and dulling his senses. Stoically, he did what he had to do.

Refusing any assistance, Finch could only watch as John started an IV of lactated ringer's solution, then methodically cleaned, stitched and bandaged most of his wounds - _those he could reach anyway._

He hurt watching, and was sure John's pain threshold, didn't even registered on normal charts.

Finch managed to hold off any queasiness until,_ to his everlasting horror,_ he realized that Reese's previous gunshot wound had been savagely re-injured, _actually targeted._ He had to look away while John stitched it back together and was utterly undone by John's suppressed grunts of sure agony while doing it.

_What traumas had this man endured? What wasn't he willing to endure for those in need? For his penance?_ His sheer willpower and determination astounded Finch. He knew much was from his training but it was the underlying force of the man himself, he had so much admiration for.

"Finch, I'm done. You can open your eyes now." Reese breathlessly taunted, a very pale Finch. But the exertion of maintaining so much control was clearly evident. "Harold? Mind... helping... with this part?"

Harold could only feel immense relief, when after helping him painstakingly wrap a support bandage around his beaten rib cage, John exhaustively collapsed.


	10. Chapter 10

Warning Rated M - for language. This is a planning and plotting chapter. With much angst - juicy - juicy angst!

* * *

A rumbling growl and soft murmurs stirred Finch from an uncomfortable, seated sleep. He reached down to comforted the grumbling dog. "Bear, gaan zitten, I'll feed you soon. Just give me a minute." Suddenly, he was fully awake with all the recent events rudely flooding back.

It had been his stomach's hungry growl to wake him and the hushed voices of Mr. Reese and Detective Carter from the other room. At some point in the early morning hours, Finch has fallen asleep watching over Carter and John. The jabbing pain running up his neck made him now, regret that decision as he bent trying to alleviate it a bit.

Finch marveled as he peered through the threshold of, an honest to God, war-room. The walls were decorated in maps, wildly criss crossed with inked intent. The table was terrifyingly blanketed in an arsenal of weapons, field armor and what he knew to be, top of the line surveillance equipment. They were hovering over the table, no doubt hashing out the details of the plan. _God knew what twists and turns they'd concocted to destroy Victoria Lebeau's hellish organization._

Mr. Reese always kept a varying level of the, proverbial, 'Plan B' bag at the ready. Finch had grabbed the couple of bags he would've considered 'Plan D...' Feeling they were well past 'B' at this point."

Still thinking he was asleep, Carter whispered her vetoing concern, "No, I'm telling you...that water way is too dangerous... you'll never see the resident wildlife until it's too late. What about here, this higher ground?"

Reese shook his head, responding in his low tone, "I don't think we can safely predict potential booby traps. I've infiltrated many jungle compounds and dealt with hundreds of creative traps... but since we're dealing with drug addled insanity, not even criminal logic applies. Things could go sideways really fast."

Finch poked his head in, "Detective, Mr. Reese, good to see you up and around." Finch smiled absently rubbing his stiff neck. He was pleased to see the much improved pair. "How go the details?"

They both attempted forced grins over tired faces, failing miserably. "That good?"

"Just can't seem to find a safe way in, that leaves us with the advantage, not blown to bits or as alligator treats. Short of an air strike, we've got nothing." Reese summarized in exhaustion.

"Not yet..," Carter optimistically offered. For the most part, John's plan was well designed, devastatingly surgical and would cripple Victoria's operation. "...but we will. Hey, thanks Harold, for the supplies, especially the clothes." She fingered the shirt she wore and gave him a genuine smile. "I understand I have you to thank." She blushed at the idea that not long ago she flashed around in just her bra and the torn remnants of what used to be nice suit pants.

"I'm glad they fit Detective." Finch was pleased, noting that both, she and Reese, now wore the black T-shirts, tactical pants and boots, he'd quickly thought to bring along. He always made it a point to keep various apparel on hand and he was getting pretty good at predicting the needs of his_ friends_. Finch inwardly paused, mulling his knee-jerk use of the word. _Friends.._. He was struck by the irony, that as much as his current life's work demanded such secrecy, to the exclusion of all relationships, he now had more people around him that he would consider true friends, than at any other point in his whole life. He did his best to stifle the bemused surprise from his sudden revelation. "I was thinking I might head to town. Get us some food. Bagels? Coffee for you both? Anything else?"

Carter gave a coy smile, "A hair and tooth-brush? Some things shouldn't be ignored, even in the face of impending war."

Reese walked Finch to the car. "Careful out there. Your only defense is that she doesn't know you." John gave his best attempt to be tactful, "This isn't New York... so... try to blend in ok."

With his crooked and mildly offended smile, Finch headed to town.

* * *

The most wicked of storms could never have compared to the destruction left in Victoria's wake. She struck a path of hateful torment, lashing her subjects with both her verbal and physical fury. The thick braided whip, a favorite weapon, dripped with the blood of her welted followers, but all she wanted was for the blood to be that, of John Reese.

Her obsessed army cowered and grovelled at her feet, muttering praising chants and spurring her tirade. "Hear me - Voodoo spirits of the underworld! Your loyal Priestess has been offended. Our temple lays in smoldering ruins at the hands of these blasphemous and vile creatures. I cast this spell - offering their lives if you bring them to kneel before me! Hear me - Voodoo Spirits!"

Victoria continued her demonic conjuring, inciting insanity-driven devotion in her drug addled followers. "I will have my revenge!"

* * *

John was working on the computer, hunched in concentration when he violently jerked up. He felt as if the cold steel of a blade had been plunged through his chest with a vanishing thrust, leaving only a foreboding shiver crawling down his spin.

Carter jumped with his sudden movement. "John, what is it? What's wrong?"

John leaned forward holding a hand to his chest and bracing on the table with the other. The pain had hit him with a sobering clarity. _ They were in over their heads - he couldn't let Carter be a part of it - he had to make her and Finch leave._ "Carter, she won't stop. She's out for blood and now... now you and likely everyone you care about is on her radar. You should return to New York with Finch. Protect them...They'll need you."

A frown magnified across Carter's face. "And what about you... huh? You need me too. You know as well as I do, the only way to end this is by cutting the head off the snake - right here, right now. We do this now, on our terms - not play catch up on her's, later. We're stronger together and I want that bitch!"

Reese couldn't help inwardly beaming with pride, admiration, respect..._ such an incredible woman._ "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Oh no. Don't you even go there! You, my friend, are not responsible for me... despite whatever that warped, hero complex of yours is telling you."

"Carter..."

She put her hand up to silence him. "No John wait. You can't do this alone, you know it and you damn well better listen. You don't have an exclusive seat to martyrdom or saving those we...care about. She made me watch and do horrible things... Things that will haunt me for the rest of my life. She made me kill, without sense or remorse. John! I almost killed you! Do you know what that does to a person?"

But before she realized the implications of what she'd just said, the words were already out. She wished she could take them back, as a million tormented shadows played across his face - each representing a piece of his soul, shattered by the horrors he'd committed and sought so desperately to atoned for. But as fast as she'd seen them, he'd slammed them back behind the harboring depths of his armor.

"Oh John, Jesus... I'm so sorry! I know you do." She hung her head, ashamed by her insensitivity, but pushed on, needing to finally get this out. "John, she almost cost me someone I... someone who's become very important to me and I won't let her succeed."

She proclaimed her words with such conviction, John questioned whether he could stop her. But this wasn't a debate, nor time to be gentle. "Think of your son, your family. Carter, they need you! The city needs you! The work you do, it's so important. You have too much to lose and so much to offer. I've already sold my soul to the devil and have lived in the darkness for so long... the world won't miss me. But not you. Some people the world just can't afford to lose. And...I" _ I can't lose you... _His thoughts went unspoken.

_Now she was mad. That was a low blow she wasn't about to let him have that one._ "That's not fair. I'm here, doing this, as much to keep them safe as help keep your dumbass, alive. And what about the work you do? Hu? What about this?! It's important. You're important to Finch. And dammit - you're important to me!" Her voice cracked. _Hold it together Joss! But she had already been feeling so out of control when it came to him. Why? She knew exactly why... because of what she was sure she'd heard him say last night. _

"Carter. You have to understand, the work is all I am. I'm just a shell of man, empty... but for the sad and futile attempts to undo the horrible things I've done - the lives I've taken. I don't deserve..." He pleaded as she cut him off.

"Stop it! Damn, you're self-sacrificing bullshit!" She tried to sound fierce, but the tears betrayed her erupting emotions as they rolled down her cheeks.

"Joss, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to upset you...I just need you to stay safe." In an instant, he saw her tough and confident exterior, falter and soften into unsure vulnerability. _He had no idea what was happening._

"John...I... I have to know. Have to ask you something. Everything that happened last night is still such a blur, but there's one thing. One image that is so clear, as vivid as you standing here, now. I'm having a hard time separating what was real from the drugs. I need to know if what I heard was real..."

_He didn't know what to expect and it scared the hell out him. _"Ok. I'll try..."

She looked away steeling herself and gathering her courage with a dry swallow. "When I was...was _hurting_ you..., at the end. Did you...did you say - you loved me?"

Reese froze. It was as if the oxygen had suddenly been sucked from the room. He tried to stay emotionless and not betray his fears, always carefully hidden away. But he couldn't help the blood rush from his face.

_He had. God help him! The face of death had finally given him the courage to say those words. He'd meant it. He'd felt it for so long, but he would never risk saying it, terrified of the repercussions those words would have on her life. She deserved better. He had nothing to offer her and her son - nothing but a life of violence, danger and eventual loss. She had already endured too much..._

He was desperate to salvage this. "Carter I said a lot of things to try to get you to focus and fight the drugs. I'm sorry, Joss."

He saw the doubting suspicion and accepting pain, duel their way across her face, eventually forced aside by her protective walls that she wore like a uniform.

Carter annoyingly swiped at her tears. _Damn him and his usual evasive style! That wasn't an answer or a denial. Because it sounded like pretext with a dash of pity! She was so confused. All she wanted was to seal up the cracks in her heart and move on._ With great effort, she composed herself, "Ok yeah.., just the drugs then." She mumbled with a humorless chuckle. "Sorry, guess I'll be sorting shit for a while. Forget I asked... and forget getting me off this case! Unless you plan to knock me out, it ain't happing. So let's just get back to work!"

His heart clenched. She was so angry. He'd caused her so much anguish by _protecting _her with his lie, he'd all but cemented her walls.

It must have been the toll of his injuries, the grueling past four days, and the look on her face... that all conspired to wear down his conviction. The only thing that seemed to matter was the truth. _Maybe if he was finally honest with her then she'd understand his fears and stay away. But he couldn't lie to her anymore. He owed her that. _He reached out, tenderly laying his hand over hers. "Carter..."

Ignoring it, she bravely rallied her defenses. "Hey don't worry about it Reese. It was just another stupid hallucination. I get it. I'm sure one, of many more to come swimming to the surface." She tried to check her reeling emotions. _Why did it bother her so much? Where was all this coming from suddenly? Was it sudden? Or had she felt this way about him from the start? Did she really think a man like John Reese, a lawless vigilante, could ever love someone like her - a cop? Hell, could he even stop his sacrificing long enough to love anyone?_ She didn't dare look him. "I'm gonna get some water."

_Dammit. How did he screw this up so badly?_ "No. Joss, wait." He waited until she stopped and turned to him. "That's not exactly right...I mean about what I said." He felt his chest constrict. "I did say a lot of things... that part was true. But I don't mean, 'I'm sorry' I didn't say _it_." John swallowed. "I mean 'I'm sorry,' I lied about saying_ it_."

Stunned eyes shot wide with comprehension as he continued. "I'm afraid of what I feel, have felt for a long time now, afraid of how it will impact you and Taylor." Reese was overwhelmed with the sudden urge to run; he'd rather be taking on all of Victoria's men, than here, right now. But instead, he sat determinedly searching for the right words.

Carter didn't move, paralyzed by his admission and the mass of feelings it stirred within her.

"Joss, You don't know what I am. I'm damaged goods, a monster with no soul left to repair." Casting his eyes to the ground, "I can't offer you anything more this..." he raised his hands pointedly looked around the old office, their weapons and battle plans spread across the table," ...danger, violence and death. That's why you should stay away."

For an eternal moment Carter said nothing, until finally she could no longer contain her churning thoughts. _Fear - be damned!_ "I'm not stupid, John." _Apparently, to hell with tact too, since he looked like she'd just slapped him._ "You think I don't know what all this is? What this all represents? It's more than just danger, violence and death, John. It represents saving lives and preventing more back things from happening.

I know what you are... what you did and what you continue to do. I have no delusions about that. But it's _why_ you do what you're doing, that defines you. You don't just do it because you're righting the wrongs of your past, you do it but because you care about the people in the present. That's why I started working with you in the first place, why I believe in you, and why I'm here now.

And whether you believe it or not, we're already a part of each other's lives. Our work crosses paths too often to think otherwise. Co-workers, friends, or more, that won't change.

And, yeah ok..._ 'violence, danger, and death,'_ that's the _risk_ part of this, but its only a part of whole picture. If that was all there was? Why bother? Saving the lives, preventing the crimes... that's the_ good_ part, the whole picture. And the _good_ outweighs any _risk_. That's what matters and that's why I became a cop.

And denying our feelings doesn't make it easier, doesn't make us safer or stronger. It leaves us lost, hollow and alone. So yeah - I know what you are, you're a good man, John. And it's why I fell in love with you."

John sat, listening in stunned silence as his heart pounded in his chest. _She was so amazing, so convincing she almost had him hoping. But she was wrong - had to be wrong._ "You deserve so much more." He spoke in quiet disbelief.

"God, really?! You would say that! You probably think I should have some bullshit fairytale! Find a man that's what? Perfect? A man who's predictable, safe? Who works a nine to five job, is home for dinner with flowers every evening. Takes out the fucking trash? Well, maybe I don't want that!"

Carter knew she was baring her soul, talking to herself as much as to him, and that she'd never find the courage to finish if she stopped now. "Maybe I want someone that's seen the evil and darkness in this world and doesn't run from it. Maybe I want someone I don't have to protect from the daily horrors of my job. Someone that knows the sacrifices it takes to do the right thing and won't throw them in my face."

Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she continued. "Someone that will protect my son, the way only I do. And someone to hold me in shared understanding of those things... John I didn't need or want _'storybook'_ perfect... maybe I'm ok with my _'twisted and fucked-up'_ version of it."

John was reeling, so many thoughts and emotions jumbling around in his mind, he had to fight to believe what he'd just heard. _She'd said she was in love with him. Accepted him. Wanted him. She made it all sound so safe, right and possible. Could he chance it? But at what cost?_ He attempted to compose himself, "Twisted and fucked up, huh?" he cautiously ventured with a crooked smile.

Shyly, "Yeah..." She wiped at the stray tears on her cheeks." ...you are."

John thought about it..."Ok, I might, no... I DO have that part covered," He grinned, then grew serious again." but nothing can justify the added danger and violence of the 'gray areas,' Joss. You said it yourself... you had to kill beyond the moral justification your job provides. That was MY fault and it won't stop the closer you get me. And then there's the very real loss." John humorlessly laughed. "I'm a bad risk." He motioned at his injuries.

"Those deaths will haunt me, but you know what, it wasn't your fault. You didn't pour those drugs down my throat, put images of demons where faces used to be. What you did was give me the one thing to hold on to, the one thing that pulled me through to survive. I can't say I wouldn't have killed those people in my right mind, out of self defense, but Victoria took my right mind - not you.

You want to talk about risk and loss? For so long I avoided loss by avoiding having anything to lose. But you know what I realized? That's not living, it's just existing. I could never give up Taylor because of the 'potential' risk of losing him. So I'm not going to be so afraid of losing something that I won't try to have it, anymore. Whether you can accept that or not... I can't ignore it anymore."

In a pained voice, John confessed, "After Jessica, for so long I couldn't feel anything, wouldn't, never thought I deserved to, ever again. I failed her and feel responsible for her death...I just don't want to be the reason you get hurt. I don't think I could survive that again."

Carter laid a tender hand to his cheek. "John you're not responsible for her death and you weren't the reason she died. You don't know how things were meant to turn out, regardless of what you did or didn't do. No one knows what fate has in store for them. But what I do know is that you tried to save her, no less than you tried to save me and Taylor. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you. A lot of people wouldn't be here. Don't you see, I'm alive _because_ you came into my life! So don't ignore what is, for what you can't know. Please... forgive yourself."

Any response Reese might have had was cut short by the sound of a car pulling up. Both Reese and Carter grabbed the nearest guns and flew to defensive positions at the darkened windows. "Stand down, it just Finch." John breathed.

With a shared look conveying a million shelved feelings all at once, they headed for the door.

* * *

"I think I've found a way in!" Finch excitedly exited his car. "The clerk-magistrate just set bail for a couple of Victoria's men that were arrested last night. If we were to post bail..."

"We could use them as a vehicle inside the compound." Reese jumped in, quickly developing their plan.

"Yes Mr. Reese, precisely and literally. All we have to do is dangle some irresistible bait."

* * *

_Footnote: I absolutely love this line written, by the immortal, Joss Whedon and used in his beloved Firefly series. "I'm not going to be so afraid of losing something that I ain't gonna try to have it..." I'm thrilled I got to play with it as fuel for Carter's rant. Thanks Joss!_


	11. Chapter 11

ch 11

* * *

The men were nothing short of disgusting. Finch wrinkled his nose in disgust. And they didn't smell any better, he realized as he joined them descending the police stations steps.

"Gentlemen." The utter strength and control it took to call them that, amused him. But he did his best to hide his repulsion at their filthy and discombobulated states.

"Now remember, as your attorney, I'm advising that you both 'lay low.' I've reserved you a motel room at the Sleepy Inn, just around the corner, room 34. I'll be by in the morning to pick you up for tomorrow's hearing."

They just stared at him with blank, 'deer-in-headlights,' emptiness. It was like talking to _Troglodytes._ Finch realized.

"I'm certain the charges will be mild, most likely, you'll each only get a couple months. So here, take these cell phones... and call me if you have any questions."

A few neanderthal-esque grunts were the only indication they'd heard him. _Well, in truth..., it was the fact that they were drifting toward the motel, that was the only real indication._ Finch mused. "Like coaching troglodytes."

"What was that Harold?"

"Nothing, Mr. Reese. They're on the way and without so much as a thank you." Finch complained with feigned insult as he climbed into his car and checked his laptop for their GPS signals.

* * *

Even the most inept and oblivious criminal couldn't have missed the shining, metallic black, humvee - so blatantly poised and begging for attention. Finch had truly rented the perfect lure to hook Victoria's men.

The fact that it was parked right in front of the motel, with the windows down and the keys left in it..., _well, that just made it flat out pathetic._ John confessed.

"Don't you think you're making it too, over the top, easy? They might spot it as a trap and take off." Carter cautioned.

John laughed. "They're not like the city criminals you're used to. They've never seen a car theft sting. Besides, I don't think these guys are firing on all cylinders - couldn't recognize a trap, let alone avoid one."

"So why didn't Finch just hand them the keys then?"

"Because Victoria is a different story. If they show up telling her some lawyer let them borrow an eighty thousand dollar hummer, that might send up some red flags. But if these zombies tell her they stole it... that one, I think, she'll believe."

"You both may want to lower your voices. They are almost to your location." Finch advised.

"But to be safe..., I chummed the cab with brains." John's flippant joke earned him an elbow from Carter.

"Your mockery is unnecessary Mr. Reese. Unless of course you are serious, in which case I'll have the cleaning bill deducted from your pay. Now, sit tight, or rather... hang in there. And I personally, would be using my time worrying more about their driving abilities."

"Funny Finch." Reese raised an eyebrow at Carter, who, he assumed must be rolling her eyes in response. It was difficult to tell, since neither one could see much, laying side by side in the dark and cramped compartment.

Only the faintest hint of light filtered into the well hidden compartment, he and Carter had fabricated under the Humvee's chassis. Twenty-two inches was ample ground clearance to add what they needed.

They'd worked quickly to construct a sufficient, but tight, space to covertly smuggle themselves, and the necessary gear, back into the camp. _ 'Tight'_ being the operative word. Reese wondered if Carter was at all enjoying the fact that their bodies were so closely pressed up against each other. Or was she too overwhelmed by the situation to notice? _He noticed._

"I can hear you grinning. You better not be considering this some kind of date." She hissed as the Hummer lurked and peeled into the street.

_Ok, she'd noticed..._ He smirked.

* * *

The rest of the trip was passed in contemplative silence. They were both a million miles away, lost to their respective thoughts.

Reese was still against it. Having Carter with him was both a blessing and a curse, but Carter wouldn't give in. He'd used every argument, some twice, but she managed to turn and counter every one, spinning him about, until he had nothing left. _Why was he surprised... she was after all, a cop, an interrogation specialist and, to top it off, had gone through law school._

It went without saying, she was a formidable asset. He tried to remind himself that she was nothing like Jessica... that Carter was a soldier, like himself, and to think of her as anything less would be an insult to her accomplishments and strengths.

Her skills were undeniable and she could more than take care of herself; so it stood to reason, that with him, they were stronger. But she was emotionally invested now, and that made her feelings for him a liability.

She was only partially correct, when she said your feelings can give you strength, because they can also cloud your judgment, give you doubt, and cause hesitation - not things he wanted her to dealing with because of him.

He would protect her with his life, but it came down to the fact that she was willing to do the same for him, that terrified him.

It was never his intention to involve her in his work to this degree. She and Fusco were only supposed to be assets, used for their positions and called upon in a crunch. Kept at a distance and safe. _Dammit, he just wanted her to have a normal life. And he'd failed that epically!_

He tried to end his self admonishment and concentrate on the mission details, when a slamming bump, mercilessly did that for him. Finch had talked him into taking some painkillers,_ 'to avoid any unnecessary distractions, like pain!'_ he'd pushed. And right now John was grateful he'd given in, since, for the second time in two days, they were careening down this miserable dirt road that lead back to that voodoo nightmare.

"I think we're almost there." The road had been definitively worse, closer to the compound.

And the symbolism was definitely, not lost on him.

* * *

As the safety of nightfall blanketed the swamp, both John and Carter chanced sliding open the view ports they'd installed, to get a glimpse of their surroundings.

The camp was still buzzing. Apparently, the stick they'd poked in the hive had definitely not yet been forgotten and of course every idiot had to check out the new ride.

So they patiently waited, and watched...

The majority of activity seemed to be the steady stream of men, moving back and forth from the compound to the vehicles. They could make out about sixteen, at any one time, loading boxes into the back of the trucks.

"What do you think they're moving?" Carter whispered.

As if to answer the question, one of the men carrying a box tripped, loudly spilling its contents of at least ten assault rifles.

"Wow Carter, nice trick. Now ask where Victoria is... so I can shoot her and we can go home." John joked while mentally multiplying the number guns to boxes they'd seen. "Seems like they're mobilizing for a full scale war..."

At the same moment John's blood ran cold with the idea, Victoria was making good on her promise of hunting them down, the _'twisted and fucked up'_ side of him felt flattered at the enormous effort. _So not right, he scolded._

Of course what ever she was doing, would soon be a moot point when they destroyed her operation and he ended her.

* * *

Finally a distant crash and the urgent scurrying of men, left the parking area momentarily clear, giving them the strategic moment to drop from their confines.

Reese instantly motioned for Carter to make a break for the forest's edge. In a running crouch, they both vanished under the thick canopy bordering the camp. The dense foliage swallowed them into easy obscurity and gave them perfect surveilling freedom.

They both laid flat on their stomachs, now, thoroughly coated in the swamp's muddy camouflage, and assessed the layout. They'd familiarized themselves with the aerial maps that Finch downloaded and were pleased to see how accurate they'd been. That would make negotiating through the camp smoother.

The complex was extremely well hidden, deeply tucked into the tightly forested swamp. It was laid out in a basic hand shape, with the vehicles parked at the south entrance or 'wrist,' temple and courtyard making up the 'palm' and five, rectangular buildings, stilted over the swamp, as 'fingers.'

"Finch. From our current position, we can see a section of each building and courtyard. The intel was good. There's a lot of motion but so far no sign of Victoria. I'm going to test our scanner uplink."

From his jacket, Reese pulled a compact, terahertz scanner and proceeded with a slow sweep of each building. "I'm looking at the northwest building, beyond the temple. Definitely the armory and they've got a hell of a stockpile of weaponry and munitions in there. You seeing this? "

"Clearly, Mr. Reese, our link is good. They are indeed well armed, please don't take any unnecessary risks. I'm ready to alerted the authorities the moment you give the word."

Carter broke in, "I confirm seventeen men at the trucks and eleven around the temple. No Victoria." With raised eyebrows, Carter looked up from her infrared equipment, "Wow terahertz... really? I've only read about those. What else do you have hiding in there?"

"I'll show you mine, if you show me yours, Detective." He punctuated his statement with a classic _'John'_ smirk, enjoying her look of surprise and their normal banter.

_There it was, he was back._ His smart-assed, playful innuendo sent instant tingles of excitement coursing through her body. She quickly hid her flushed face behind her scanner, but still gave as good as she got. "Promises, promises John Reese..., you first." She purred causing John to lick his lips with a swallow. But the task at hand quickly stole the moment. "Ok, whoa! The north building is really showing up hot, but with no discernible movement. Gotta be the drug lab."

He nodded, "Sounds like the chemical processing signatures." He panned left, "The building between us and the lab is just a basic storage room."

John did another sweep across the compound. "You know, they have all these weapons..., but few of the men are actually armed. They honestly believe they're above any outside threat."

"I hope you're right, because we could use anything on our side right about now... I'm counting a lot of heat signatures churning in the two east buildings. I'm guessing fifteen to twenty each. That puts us over sixty confirmed so far." She looked up, shaken with sudden fear at the overwhelming odds. Her eyes searched his.

"Carter...it'll be ok. We have the advantage of surprise and aren't taking them on one on one, these babies will even the odds." Reese slid a bag of charges over to her. "But Joss..., you don't have to do this. I can handle it. I don't... "

"No. John don't." _She couldn't handle what she knew he wanted say._ _She was sure she shared the same fears and now wasn't the time..._ Her hand lingered over his as she swallowed her doubt and took the bag.

* * *

A slow look of resignation spread across his face as he began a quick re-cap of the plan. "I'm going to create a diversion, give them something to worry about and flush her out. That'll be your signal to move.

Just like we planned. I need you to work the perimeter counter-clockwise. Set three charges... remember, push here, and here, to arm them.

One on the temple and each of the barracks - center mass if you can. Move fast but stay smart. Don't deviate from the plan.

I'll work clockwise getting the other three.

We'll meet east of the barracks in fifteen. I've got the detonator, and will trigger them separately after we rendezvous." He continued with calculating detachment. _He had to._

"Here, take these." He handed her the spare keys to the Humvee and continued without missing a beat.

"Stay invisible and don't engage unless absolutely necessary. Anything happens, get the hell out, meet Finch and get home." He spoke faster knowing she'd try to stopped him.

"If Victoria survives, she will be on a bloody rampage. You need to beat her home. Finch has lots of safe houses ok, so use them... Taylor and Finch will need you. Promise me... I need to hear that you understand."

"Ok, but dammit John, it goes both ways. Only way this works! I have to know, if anything happens to me, you'll watch over Taylor." Her voice wavered as she fixed him with an imploring stare.

"You already know I would. But Taylor will NOT lose his mother. I promise." He wanted to lean in, hold her in reassuring arms, tell her that everything was going to be ok, that life would go back to normal... _at least their version of normal._ _But he couldn't._ If he did, he knew he'd never be able to let her go.

"Let's end this." Was all he said as he shoved to his feet and vanished into the jungle.

* * *

If Carter had any question as to what _'signal'_ John meant, it was quickly answered by the spreading smoke crawling from under the storage building. Flames soon followed, lashing from the windows and seeping between the slats. Frantic screams of panic began filling the air.

_Way to go John, _Carter snickered and waited for the perfect moment to make her escape from the underbrush.

Minions flitted about, running in circles of confusion, until Victoria's shrill commands scrapped over their clueless ears trying to reel in the insanity. "Use the pumps and hoses you idiots! Every one of you grab a bucket. Who the hell let this happen? Get it out before it blows my lab!"

No one dared stand idle for fear of her rage and snapped into directed action.

Carter caught one last looked of the craziness as she smoothly disappeared around the temple wall. She couldn't wipe the grin off her face, upon discovering its inside had been completely gutted and lay in total ruins. _Damn John, you don't HALF do anything do you..._ She marveled.

The oil John dumped, had created a super heated inferno that literally vaporized the inside and collapsed the wooden ceiling into nothing but a pile of smoldering ash. Carter crouched next one of the central pillars placing and arming the first charge.

"Ain't karma a bitch, Bitch." She mumbled and moved on.

* * *

John wore a pleased curl to his lips while slogging through some thick swamp growth. The storage building had no shortage of flammable fuels, add to that, inept safety precautions and you had one HELL of a recipe for the perfect distraction.

His next target was a fun mark. He had no problems skirting along the swamp's edge to access the building's underbelly. Everyone was too preoccupied and blinded by the smoke to notice him.

He'd done hundreds of these kinds of jobs, _simple infiltrate and destroy missions,_ but always with a detached indifference. This time it was different. This time it was personal and he wanted to savor every righteous bit of it.

He set the charges, enjoying the fact they, would undoubtedly, destroy what meant the most to the diabolical hag - her precious drug lab.

John caught a glimpse of Victoria screaming and flailing her arms with angry gestures. He smiled imagining the '_special'_ look he'd put on her face when the place blow sky high. _Special._ "I have eyes on Victoria. How's it going Carter?"

* * *

John's _little_ fire worked well. The parking area was cleared of it's previous buzzing workers, with the men now, intent on battling the blaze. This left an open path from the back of the temple, through the swamp to the back of barracks.

Planting the charge on the first barracks wasn't too difficult, having more solid ground beneath it, but the second was another story entirely.

"Ugh...I'm fine. Temple's done."

"You don't sound fine, Carter." Johns words were edged with concern.

The dense underbrush was a thick clawing mess, tough to get though, but not impossible. It was the deepening waters and sucking mud that made moving, smoothly or silently, near impossible. "Damn mud's got me at a snails crawl, under the last barracks." She hissed in a hushed curse.

"Hang in there, you've almost got it and we can settle in for a great fireworks show."

"...Standby..., people heading this way." Peering out from under the barracks' edge, Carter watched as four of Victoria's men jogged passed heading toward the courtyard.

_Shit!_ Carter instantly flattened herself against the barracks' stairs. She'd barely avoided discovery by another group of five minions, exiting from overhead. _ Too close._

Soundlessly, she resumed, setting the second charge as close to center as she could manage, more than ready to get out of the sloggy hell hole. "I've got it, heading out now." She whispered.

* * *

_This was taking too long!_ Carter checked her watch, again. John would already be waiting for her, but she had to move at such a tedious crawl to avoid alerting the men in the barracks above. _Plus she couldn't see crap! _

Flashlights were a definite NO. She just had to feel her way through the black murk, made worse by the churning mud.

Suddenly, she felt her foot tightly grabbed. Instant panic set in as she fought against the alligator, she was sure had her clamped in its jaws.

It felt like it was perilously wrapping and coiling around one of her feet, trapping her in place. _But there was no pain? _

Finally she calmed herself enough to regain some measure of clarity, able to realize it wasn't a living creature at all, but a cluster of gnarled roots that had her so solidly entangled.

Her attempts to pull free only seemed to dig her deeper within the mire. She had to get back to John. She knew he would never blow the charges until he saw she was clear, but neither did she want him to chance a rescue; so she stayed silent.

Carter pulled her knife and hooked its serrated blade under the biggest root, sawing as hard and fast as she could. She had to cut a several roots, before the mass finally gave with snapping release. She'd been pulling with so much force, that when it gave, it sent her slashing backwards and into one one of the building stilts. She froze against the pole, chest deep in the water, and listening to the boot stomps above her abruptly cease then start running.

"Th'ank we got use a Gattor? Grab your gun. Com'on!"

Her heart pounded from her panicked attempt to flee discovery. But it was too late.

"Well, fuck me. Over here!"

"Freeze! Get out now!"

There were to many of them, all armed. S_he had nowhere to go..._


	12. Chapter 12

Ch12 Warning Rated M - for violence, graphic scenes and language.

* * *

****"...Freeze. Get out now..." The closest of Victoria's men shouted, while waving the muzzle of his M4 at her face.

Carter was scared, but her inner, pissed off, cop reared to the surface. "So which is it asshole? Freeze or get out? Cuz I gotta move to get out." Sure it was an irrational and maybe stupid thing to say, in light of the dire situation, but she couldn't help it.

"Get your hands up." The same guy spat as a second waded in and roughly grabbed a handful of her jacket, wrenching her from under the barracks with a strong toss.

She landed on her knees in front of five men, four with their guns trained directly on her. She still had her assault rifle slung behind her back as she slowly stood with her hands in the air.

She wanted so badly to just open fire, _consequences be damned_, but she knew it would alert the whole compound and further jeopardize the mission.

With her hands still in the air she stealthily activated her ear bud. "Well, now look'ie what we got here. The Mambo's gonna be so pleased! Keep your hands high. Move!."

"Carter! Where are you?" Reese broke in, but got no response. He just listened to the unthinkable, play out over his earpiece as he began to move toward her last location. "Finch! They've got Carter, where is she?"

"She's about two hundred yards southeast of your position, between the barracks and heading toward the courtyard." Finch quickly relied.

"I can't blow any of the charges, she'll be killed. I'm going in." Reese tried to keep his mounting fears at bay. His veins burned with the sudden rush of adrenalin but he knew he had to stay calm and sharp. Everything depended on it.

* * *

He moved with purposeful intent, staying hidden along the brush and under the structures. It would only be a matter of minutes before the whole camp was buzzing in a frenzied search for him.

Peering from the corner of the drug lab, he could see Carter being backed, at gunpoint, into the center of the compound and bristled at the sound of Victoria's sinister cackle from the steps of the temple. "Hold her and look for him. He's here, find him! "

By a quick count, there were eleven men closely surrounding Carter, half armed, half stupidly bare handed. Her position made shooting them too risky, regardless he wouldn't be able to hit them all before one managed to get to her.

He slung his rifle over his back. _This isn't going to end like this_, he vowed, drawing his two SOG fixed blade knives.

Blending in plain sight was always a skill he was good at, and had been thankful for, but never so much as now. Reese stepped from his cover, seamlessly blending into the milling crowd surrounding Joss. The zombies were so focused on their prey, they never noticed him walking among them.

His eyes were locked on Carter as he began carving a merciless path through the minions. The men gave momentary pause, dumbstruck by their crippling brethren piling at their feet, but never had the chance to connect it to the dark figure passing through them.

John's lethal motion didn't so much as pause as he collected the rifle of a falling man, while delivering an ending thrust to another.

Blade still dripping, John brazenly came to stand right next to Carter and handed her a pilfered M4. "Care to dance Detective?"

* * *

Carter didn't know if she wanted to kiss him or shoot him herself as the shock, relief and anger hit her all at once. Her mouth wouldn't work but at least her hands did, grabbing and cocking the rifle.

Victoria was absolutely seething. "You idiots, don't just stand there! Capture them! NOWWW!" The punctuating crack of her whip broke the stupefied shock of her followers.

Newly motivated minions spilled from every crevice of the camp, determined to please their feared leader.

There was no cover, no escape and no choice, with the horde closing in around them. "Carter take my six. Target those armed." They both turned, moving back to back while simultaneously raising their weapons. A strange calm washed over them. They were together, and right now, that was enough.

"Now!"

Carter opened fire, her M-4 vibrating in her hands as she slowly panned around, tearing through the murderous mob in a knee-cap annihilating hail of bullets. She was numb but for the feel of Reese's strong back pressed up against her's, pulsating from his M-16's barrage of recoiling fury. Each blazing round intensifying their resolve to win this. They weren't just fighting for survival anymore, they were fighting for each other - _fighting to live._

The pair cut a chaotic swath, while slowly dancing their way backwards into thick cover of smoke still bellowing from the storage building. They only let up to reload their scolding weapons.

But Victoria's men just kept coming, running at them like moths to a flame, with no regard for their lives and oblivious to the danger before them. These weren't the skilled advances of trained soldiers, with strategy or predictability, these were the brainwashed methods of drug addled fools...nothing more than victims of Victoria's heinous selfishness. Both Reese and Carter tried to disable rather than kill, but those with guns gave them little choice.

John knew they couldn't last in the open; he'd already been grazed and his vest had been put to the test a few times already. He didn't doubt that Carter shared the same consequences. They were loosing the upper hand to the sheer number of their attackers. _He had to end this._

Out of the corner of her eye, Carter saw Reese pull something from his vest, then heard his scream over the deafening discharges of their rifles. "Get down!"

All of her senses suddenly became one, indiscernible and raw moment of events - the shocking pain of John's colliding body taking her to the ground, the excitement of his blanketing heaviness, the spurring terror of the inevitable onslaught, the calming allure of John's heated breath on her neck - then the deafening concussion of all hell exploding around them.

* * *

The black night sky became and instant inferno of blinding blooms of fire. Four charges scattered molten sparks and shooting debris in all directions, illuminating the swamp in a glowing red chaos of pandemonic proportions.

The shock waves surged across the compound, intersecting with such horrendous magnitude, no one was left standing.

"Joss! Joss are you ok?!" Reese had shielded Carter until most of the large wreckage had landed. "Can you move?" He yelled, his ears were ringing, he knew her's would be too.

"Yes! I'm alright!" When Carter came to her feet she could barely move, frozen by the sheer enormity and mass of the destruction.

"Carter! We need cover!" Reese grabbed her by the vest, pulling her along with him.

She honestly wasn't expecting the yield to have been that devastating, but then that wasn't the only power at work in the explosions, the chemicals and munitions had magnified them - _and then some..._

Carter shook her head, _again_, in awe at the undeniable affirmation that John Reese did nothing half-assed.

* * *

Dancing shadows of whirling black smoke made negotiating through the minefield of scattered rubble slow and treacherous. They stumbled across countless soot covered men, some dead, some beginning to stir. Many wondered through the mess in aimless confusion, while others ran, screaming and crashing, through the swamp's smoldering underbrush.

But one fact was thankfully true for them all, they were heedless to Reese and Carter's presence.

Things had gotten out of hand during the firefight. John tried to get Victoria in his sites, but had quickly lost her in the fray.

Reese kept a sharp lookout now, but identifying any one specific person was near impossible in the murky smoke and motioned them on.

He purposely hadn't detonated two of the charges, leaving them a relatively clear path back to the Humvee between the east barracks and temple.

"Did you see what happened to Victoria?" Carter yelled above the clashing din and ringing of her ears.

"No, nothing! With any luck she's owning up to her demon gods as we speak."

Abruptly, a secondary explosion rocked the forest, knocking them both off their feet. This blast had nearly as much force as one of their charges, but wasn't his. Turning to Carter, John yelled, "Drug lab! Ammo's next! Run!" He knew it was only a matter of time before the rest blew and couldn't wipe the wicked grin from his face, immensely pleased her operation was being so completely, being leveled to the ground.

Between blasts, Reese grabbed Carter around the waist, pushing her up into a faster run down the path. They needed to gain more distance from the lab's volatile compounds, currently erupting in a catastrophic display of techni-colored fireworks. But as he'd predicted, that wasn't their only hazard, as the superheated ammunition violently joined the treacherous insanity.

_Just another fifty meters and they'd be clear to blow the remaining charges. _Reese estimated.

As they ran, they saw many of Victoria's men hurling themselves behind any nearby cover or launching into the muddy waters; their only concern now was simple survival. No one took notice of he and Carter fleeing between the buildings until, without warning, a nearby shot rang out.

Carter cried as she crumpled to the ground, coming to a rolling stop with her hand clutched against her side.

"Carter!" Reese protectively positioned himself between her and the direction the shot had come from.

"Agh shit! I'm fine...it's, it's just a graze. Dammit, where's my gun." Hiding the pain, she awkwardly sat up searching the path's edge for any sign of it.

John aimed his rifle toward the temple and where he guessed the shot came from. "Can you get up?"

But the question was forgotten the moment Victoria broke from the shadowy steps, well shielded by two large and far more, competent looking bodyguards. Both had their guns trained right on Carter.

"Drop the guns or she dies." John knew these weren't her normal brain-dead lackeys, there was no choice as he tossed his gun and rifle.

Victoria snarled a smile, twitching her whip back and forth like the tail of angry cat. Her usual controlled and determined look of_ 'crazy,'_ had morphed into a deranged and completely unhinged insanity. "You! You think you can do this to me...no one does this to ME!" Her voice cracked. "You have no idea how wrong you are! Kill her and take him apart!"

Both men moved toward Reese.

Carter slowly stood, tightly holding her side. Reese stayed in front of her.

"Carter get ready." He hissed, then bared his teeth in a menacing smile while spitting pure venom, "I won't let you hurt her."

The calculating ferocity of a lethal predator darkened John's eyes as he stalked towards the two gunmen, heedless of their pointed weapons. "Carter, I need you to go. NOW!" He growled launching himself into both men.

The blatantly bold attack caught the men off guard as Reese wrapped his arms around the first man's neck using him to anchor a swinging kick into the other, sending him sprawling onto the temple steps.

John never let up. He was running on blind fury, with his knee firmly embedded into the first man's throat, while venting punishing blows to his face. A glimpse of Carter, finally moving, filtered through his rage.

"Go! Get out of he..." A gunshot impacted his vested back, lurching him forward, onto his hands and knees. "Shouldn't have done that." He coldly rasped and flung a knife with twisting vengeance over his shoulder slicing the man's gun hand.

By the time the bodyguard's weapon hit the ground Reese was on him, locked in mortal combat. Fists impacted already bruised and blooded flesh on both sides. John barely felt the blow to his shoulder, it was overshadowed by the knee to his gunshot wound and the burning agony caused by his twisting ribs. 

_Enough of this crap!_ Ducking the next punch, John came up and buried a fist into the man's kidney. As the bodyguard reared back, John landed a hard left to his solar plexus sending the man staggering into the temple wall.

John caught the peripheral blur of Victoria retreating back toward the compound. But before he could locate his rifle, he was mowed down from behind. The first bodyguard was back up and wanted revenge.

The man stood first, with a gun leveled on Reese at point-blank range. John snapped out, intercepting it with an instantaneous wrench and twist of the goon's wrist and shot him dead, with his own gun.

* * *

Reese could still see Victoria, now demandingly waving her arms at her brain-dead army, instructing them to attack.

He turned to find Carter. Somehow, they'd lost communication, so it was with great relief to see her almost to the Humvee.

Carter breathed a sigh of relief seeing him up and poised, with his rifle at the ready. She knew what he was about to do. Normally she wasn't one for being judge, jury and executioner, but the bloodthirsty Victoria had proven that even she had her justifiable exceptions. "Snipe the bitch." She encouraged, even knowing he couldn't hear her.

_Now to end this._ Collecting his rifle, John knelt into an exhaling tripod stance. But just as he took aim a scuffling commotion distracted him from his target, drawing his scope to the other side of the temple.

A mob had gathered and were fast moving on Carter's position. His heart seized - there was no way he could defend her from here and she had no weapon. "Finch can you hear me?"

John sounded rattled, something Finch was not used to hearing. "Yes Mr. Reese, what's happening?"

"I need you to pick Carter up on the road, then call in the authorities. Get her out of here, Finch. I'm finishing this now!"

Finch was terrified. He recognized that tone, the finality in John's voice. "John, whatever it is you are intend to do, I'm sure we can come up with another battle plan."

"Someone once said, there are no victors in battle, there's only the battle and you pick your moment to make a stand and you make it count. This is my moment, Harold. Take care of her."

"Mr. Reese! John?!" But he got no response.

* * *

Carter looked back over her shoulder and stared in heart stopping disbelief, as the gang of rapidly advancing men passed the temple. _She wasn't going to make!_

John captured Joss with his eyes. In one look, he tried to convey every ounce of his un-professed love, yearning, admiration, and respect, as he backed toward the compound holding the detonator high above his head in explanation.

Carter shot John a pleading look as the icy chill of dreaded understanding froze her blood. _Oh God, no! _

The pain that darkened her beautiful face killed him but also steeled his resolve. Protecting her, Finch and the world from this tyrant was all that mattered. And with a sad smile of complete acceptance, he pressed the button blowing the remnants of Victoria's empire into nothingness.

* * *

Joss stumbled a few running steps toward the blast, but the heated shockwave leveled everything and blew her back. She collapsed to her knees, unshed tears forming in disbelief and numb anguish as she replayed the blinding explosions that swallowed him. "John..." Her beautiful Angel of Death, was gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Rated M for mature themes and situations.

* * *

_Author's note: I know... I'm sorry... I'm an evil, evil person to leave you all hanging like that, late last night. (Maybe not as diabolically evil as Victoria, but a close second... according to a few of the heart-felt reviews.) _

_So here it is, the conclusion of Twisted, along my apologies. :-) I hope you enjoy. _

* * *

Everything had been annihilated.

Carter sat, alone amidst the burning chunks of debris, heedless of the still plummeting dangers landing all around her. Floating embers popped and cracked through the air, but she heard and felt nothing; she was just lost to the horror of her worst nightmare and oblivious to any lingering threats.

The impact of the hurling blast had left her on the ground. All she wanted was to stay there, stay in her hunched stupor of denial. She was terrified that when she got up, it would all suddenly be made, undeniably real.

Time stood painfully still, until the sound of John's stern words pulled her back to reality. _'Protect them, they'll need you.'_

She gasped. The magnitude of his sacrifice hit with brutal clarity, releasing a volley of emotions that gripped her very soul. She forced herself up into a stumbling stride, tightly holding her bleeding side as she swallowed passed the pain and pushed into a run. Determined to survive... _for Him._ Determined _his_ sacrifice would not be in vain.

She jumped into the Humvee and tore out of the compound.

* * *

She could barely see. Between her streaming tears and the tunnel vision of her headlights pitching through the inky black forest, she did her best to control the three tons of careening metal.

The humvee precariously clung to the very edges of each turn and to the tips of each lurching bump.

She knew she should slow down, but simply couldn't reel in her desperation to get away. The irony of killing herself by flipping into the swamp, battled with the dire need to stripe away the clinging horrors with the scrapping underbrush and blasting speed.

Tears still spilled as she finally hit the pavement in a sideways, tire squealing slide, narrowly missing the black Lincoln.

* * *

Finch had to crank the wheel of his heavy car, danergously swerving and dodging, to miss the giant metal beast by mere inches. He couldn't even separate his heart beats, they thrummed with such speed.

A vibration in Carter's pocket, finally penetrated her desperate flight. It took a couple of fumbling attempts before she pulled the phone free.

"Detective...! Detective can you hear me?!" He didn't even recognize his own panicked voice, how would she?

At first, nothing but a pained choke escaped her raw throat, then finally, one word. "Finch...?"

Immeasurable relief flooded over him at the sound of her voice. "Yes,Detective! I'm right behind you! You can slow down now." He'd lost both their cell signals after the blast and had been frantic, trying to reach them ever since.

"He's..he's gone Finch. John's gone. I saw... Oh God... I saw him." She began heaving in painfully dry, cracking breaths, swerving with each reflex.

"Please Joss, slow down and pull over." Finch stayed as close as he dared, carefully avoiding her erratic maneuvers and feared she might wreck before stopping. The helplessness of seeing her so out of control caused his stomach to lurch. "Joss, you're safe now...please let me help you." His pleading was finally rewarded by the sudden illumination of slowing brake lights.

* * *

Finch all but ran to her door, unfeeling of his increased pains, but still, absolutely unprepared to handle her condition. "Joss!" His heart broke at her fragile and haggard appearance as he caught her collapsing exit with wrapped arms.

He coaxed her to stand, supporting her as best he could, while slowly directed her toward his car. "I've got you Detective."

They were almost there when a warm stickiness began coating his hand, causing instant panic. "Oh my! You're hurt! Joss, how badly?" But he got no response. "Detective how badly are you hurt?" He pleaded.

She finally met his eyes with hers, seeing her pain and fears reflected back in his. "It's just a graze, Harold." She numbly whispered, but couldn't add _'I'll be alright...'_ as she paused at the passenger door.

He still had an arm around her good side when she turned towards him, wrapping her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder. For just a moment, they shared the much-needed contact and mutual sorrow of their loss.

* * *

Joss was barely aware of Finch's distant voice calling in the report, then her name echoing in the car. "Detective... Detective Carter...Joss?..." Finally it filtered through her haze, "...are you sure? You saw him... die? He may need our help?"

She simply shook her head and forced the faintest whisper... "He went back in after her. Victoria. Then...," she swallowed, "...then he saw the mob heading toward the trucks, toward me. He detonated both charges to stop them. Jesus... John was in the middle, between the blasts. I saw him... then nothing but a wall of fire and I was blown back." One last tear rolled down her cheek. "Not even _he_ could survive that..." Her voice faded as she turned away to stare out into the passing black.

Only that grim reality kept Finch heading towards the airstrip.

* * *

The sleek white Gulfstream sat outside the hanger, fueled and ready to go.

They were just over twelve hundred miles from New York. The trip would only take two hours, but for Finch, it would feel like an eternity.

_What was he going back to?_ Logically he knew the numbers would keep coming, he knew he needed to continue, _their._.., the work. But nothing would ever be the same. How could he ever think to find someone like John Reese again?

The entire operation seemed impossibly daunting and futile without his friend by his side. _This hurt as much as loosing Nathan._ He hadn't realized the depths of his feelings for John until this moment.

He pulled the Lincoln up, close to the plane, instructing his waiting pilot to grab the bags from the trunk as he hurried around to give Carter a hand. She'd managed to wrap her side and stop the bleeding while he idling kept her talking about Taylor.

Finch had encouraged the distraction, knowing Taylor was her anchor and strength. For a split second he allowed himself to envy her. He'd lost Nathan, been forced to leave Grace and had now lost John... He was left with only the Machine as a cold tether to this world. "Detective, are you ready?"

* * *

Carter tried so hard to stay strong for Finch. She knew how hard this must be for him too. "Yeah Harold, let's go home."

Carter waited for Finch to climb the few steps into the plane, when the approaching roar of an over-revved engine echo down the deserted airstrip. She frowned, straining to detect its exact location.

"Finch are there still guns in the bag?"

"Yes. Why? You think they followed us?"

"I'm not taking any chances." She barley took her eyes off the closing headlights pulling a Colt 1911 from the bag. An instant pang of realization stabbed her heart, recognizing this gun, as one of John's favorites. She made a mental note to keep it.

Slamming her armor back in place, she steeled her emotions. "Oh Shit!" Carter identified the vehicle as one of the old 4x4 trucks she'd seen at the camp, just as it smashed through the airfield gates sending them twisting from their hinges. "Finch! That's one of Victoria's! Take cover!"

Steam spewed from the radiator, bellowing like the breath of an angry dragon as the truck drunkenly swerved toward them. Carter stood her ground taking aim at the incoming threat.

The truck's tires locked in a squealing attempt to slow its collision course, straight for them. Carter dove, rolling clear, coming up on one knee with her gun ready, just as the truck piled into the back of the parked Lincoln.

The hollow hanger amplified the crunching groans of metal and shattering glass. Smoke and steam enveloped the mangled mess, obliterating any clear target.

Carter motioned for Finch to stay put. Her heart was pumping pure adrenaline as she cautiously approached the truck, 45 held true. "Get out!" She yelled and jumped when the door fell from its hinges, crashing to the pavement and releasing plumes of trapped smoke.

"Put your hands where I can see them and get out of the truck, or I'll shoot!"

Coughing filtered through the motor's hissing spew as a shadowy figure slowly limped through the caustic smoke.

Carter's breath seized, her eyes doubting the ghostly image coming into view, as John Reese emerged from the murky vapors. "John?!"

Gun forgotten, Carter ran to him just in time to slow his sagging collapse. "I thought... we were past... you trying to shoot me... Detective." He gaspingly choked as he buried he face in her hair. Dry sobs of joy racking her body, "Shhh... it's ok Joss." he comforted as he held her, breathing her in.

Finch limped as fast as his body would allow. "Oh my God, John! Mr. Reese we thought..." He couldn't say anymore. Control was not his at the moment, so he accepted the shaking breaths of relief and a teary smile while simply absorbing the truth of the miracle before him.

With a sudden fright, Carter pulled back from Reese, to look him in the eye. "What about Victoria?"

Reese collected his last bit of energy and licked his dry, cracked lips. "It's over...," was all he got out before bonelessly slipping into Carter's embrace and exhausted oblivion.

* * *

With the help of the pilot, they carried Reese into the jet and carefully deposited him on one of the plush couches. John's appearance was a stark contrast to the clean, cream-colored leather. He was covered head to toe in dried mud, blood, soot and charred material.

Finch signaled the pilot to depart as soon as they boarded. Then hurriedly gathered a first aid kit and some waters, before settling on the facing seat for take off.

As soon as the jet leveled to its cruising altitude, Carter moved to John's side. She checked his pulse and began combing his body for new injuries. Right away she noticed Finch's paling complexion as she peeled away bits of John's shirt caked to burns on his arms. If she had any hope of keeping Finch upright and able to help her, she'd have to think fast and distract him. "So, what did Mr. Miller have to say about this whole thing?" Carter broke the silence.

Finch swallowed down his nausea as he settled next to Carter and handed her the antiseptic with more gauze. "Honestly, I don't believe he was very surprised by his wife's betrayal. I think, on some level, he'd always known she'd had ulterior motives of some sort. He has however, decided to release his work publicly. That should rule out any future threats against him and the world will certainly benefit from his life-changing contribution."

She was finished with John's arms and moved to pack a jagged graze on his shoulder. "So whoever you got your intel from, about Dr. Miller, decided to what..., leave out the part about his wife being a psychotic voodoo queen? Why were we protecting her in the first place?" Carter quickly asked Finch, seeing the three shades of green play across his face.

"I'm afraid it's not that simple Detective."

"And you're not gonna tell me why are you?" Finch didn't answer her when the raspiness of John's breathing grew more labored. "Finch. Help me get his vest off."

Together, they slowly worked off the destroyed Kevlar, which had long ago, stopped being of any benefit. Removing the heavy armor seemed to ease John's distress, as well as theirs. But the fact that Finch already had a Doctor on standby, awaiting their arrival, was a relief.

Though he seemed stable and resting well, she'd seen far to many impact traumas to not worry about the unseen, internal damage that could so suddenly crop up. She began a more thorough assessment of his obvious injuries and then gently slide her hands over his body to palpate his ribs, and just about jumped out of her skin when he spoke.

"That tickles Carter." _ It didn't. Hurt like hell, but wouldn't tell her that._

"Hey... you, welcome back." Carter smiled from beside him. She left her hand laying on his chest unwilling to break their contact, as if the very act of touching him would keep him from disappearing or prove he was not a figment of her imagination. "Here, try some water." She brought the container to his lips.

* * *

Finch set back, rolling his shoulders to relax the tension in his neck. He still couldn't fully accept that his friend was actually here, in front of him, alive. He was at a loss for words. _Another miracle,_ he inwardly mused, watching Carter caring for John and their tender exchange.

Not for the first time, did he wonder at the pair's true feelings. He'd never seen John as passionate, as when something concerned the Detective. And vice versa. But neither had ever made their feelings as openly clear as at this moment.

He honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that, but whatever _this_ was, it fueled an unwavering force, beyond reckoning. And that was a benefit to them all.

* * *

"Thank you." The water did soothed his burned throat.

"John? How...? What happened? I saw you...die." Carter forced the last word through pained lips.

He shook his head and swallowed against the rawness of his scarcely working voice, but fought through the answer. "No..., you saw the explosion but I... was far enough... to get thrown clear... of the shrapnel and... lucky to land... in muddy water... saved from the flames." Reese closed his eyes from the exertion. _Between the impacts to his chest and the smoke inhalation, he wasn't going to be singing anytime soon._

"And Victoria?"

"Dethroned..." He laughed, but his scorched throat and lungs would have none of it, rebelling with a coughing fit.

"Easy. Here try some more water..." She cupped a hand behind his head, tilting it she he could drink.

Reese waited it out then started again. "Poetically... crushed... by one of her temple columns. I actually... feel a little cheated." He pouted, attempting only a smile around his split lip this time.

"How did you get out? The police must have been swarming?" Finch wondered.

"They had their hands full. I... slipped out behind them, ducking... onto side roads... Luck from there...I guess."

"I just logged in. The police are calling it a _'botched ritual suicide of the notorious voodoo cult.'_ I imagine the whole truth and expanse of Lebeau's organization will slowly be uncovered. I imagine, a few anonymous emails should aid the authorities on that front. I know this situation must weigh heavily on you both, but I fear the fate of her organization and its followers, would have had the same, eventual and inevitable end. Your involvement simply sped that up, thereby saving countless victims and preventing untold barbaric crimes."

Finch's words truly were like a soothing salve over a wounded morality. There had been so many killed simply because of their misplaced, drug addicted trust, no less dangerous than Victoria herself, but underlyingly, more tragic. The fact was, nothing could undo what they'd done, bring back the lives they'd been forced to take, but thinking about the lives saved because of their actions, helped to deal.

* * *

An exhausted silence fell between the three, until Reese seemed to collect himself in a concentrated seriousness, "Finch...?"

"Yes, Mr. Reese?"

"No more vacations for a while, ok?"

Finch sincerely laughed, feeling as if the crushing weight of the past week had suddenly been lifted from his chest. "No, Mr. Reese... I'm afraid they simply don't agree with you." Finch melted back into the soft leather of the seat, still wearing an amused smile that spread to his eyes, "Not for a while anyway..."

"Carter?" Reese whispered. Worried he'd missed something vitally wrong by her extended silence.

"Mmm hmm?"

"You're... uncharacteristically quiet. You ok?" Reese pushed.

After moving up on the couch next to John, Carter had been contentedly lost in her own thoughts. She was relishing the simple sounds of his voice, savoring the weight of him beside her, while her fingers idly touched his hair. She was just amazed to have him back.

She really wasn't emotionally equipped to process it all yet, so she just held fast to the utter perfection of the moment. "I'm sorry... yeah. I'm...everything is fine." She leaned in to hold him with her joy filled eyes. "Everything is just perfectly _Twisted."_

* * *

The end..._Never_

* * *

Coming soon: "Death Games"

* * *

Thank you to my Mom, for always lending a patient ear to my _writing ramblings_ and to my wonderful beta, ReeseisLAVAhot, for her time and HUGE effort slaying the little monsters that are my type-o's! LOL (I feel for you!)


End file.
